Force of Will
by Saedeas
Summary: To Will Putnam, Metropolis wasn't the City of Tomorrow, or the home of Earth's resident Kryptonians, it was simply where school happened to be located. He never actually wanted to be part of the superpowered community, but when he's dragged into their world, he decides that it's only fair if he gets a little something for his trouble. OC Main.
1. Chapter 1 - Collateral City

**Author's note:**

 **Hey.**

 **Well, first and second chapter up. It's a DC fic, obviously, and the protagonist in an OC. Currently I've got a few more chapters finished, and I've got ideas for a good deal more. Chapter size will be somewhere around 7-10k, and I expect to update regularly (i.e. bi-weekly to monthly). I hope you'll enjoy, and if you have questions or concerns, by all means, let me know.**

 **Chapter 1 - Collateral City**

So living in Metropolis doesn't sound too bad, right? The thing is, Metropolis, the city of tomorrow and home of Supertights himself is looking a little less spectacular from where I'm standing. Oh don't get me wrong, the commercial districts with their snazzy ultra-modern skylines, and the islands where all the money lives are picture-fucking-perfect. Regrettably, like a sizable minority in Metropolis, I live in the part of the city where cameras go less often, and where most of us are constantly harassed by rising insurance premiums and weekly power outages. I'm sure the people the picturesque part of Metropolis has another name for my part of the Six Boroughs, but I like to call my little slice of heaven Collateral City.

You ever wonder where all the super powered fights end up, after they're forced away from the precious skyline? They end up here in Collateral City, where no two trips to the university are ever the same. There's always a cratered road or a leveled building blocking one of the roads into the city proper, and even when disaster hasn't blocked the roads, the following reconstruction efforts have. Man, construction companies must be making a killing out here.

I should probably stop whining though - at least it isn't Gotham. Sure, we have to deal with stray lasers and falling buildings, but there isn't much in the way of organized crime, drugs and protection rackets… unless you count good ol' Metropolis insurance rates of course.

I know I'm coming across as overly dramatic or pessimistic, but staring at the human shaped dent in what used to be my car will do that to you. Especially with your hands full of groceries and a two mile hike home.

"This again? Really?" I muttered despondently while putting down my groceries. I suppose the only good part about having dealt with this before, is that I knew who to call this time around. All I could hope for was that my insurance premium wouldn't rise again, as I was already struggling with keeping myself afloat with an apartment, car and university costs. I snapped a few pictures of my car, especially focusing on the man-shaped dent. Maybe my insurance company would be a bit more lenient knowing it was the obvious fallout of yet another superpowered fight.

"Hey kid! Need a ride?" an accented voice called, breaking my out of my reverie. I turned towards the cab where the voice came from, then down at my bulging grocery bags and up again "Yeah, I suppose I do. Not getting far in a car with only two wheels still attached" I called back on my way towards the cab. I got in the back with my groceries, trying not to lose anything while scooting in.

"So, where to?" the driver asked giving me pitying smile. I told him the address of my basement apartment which shouldn't be more than 10 minutes away in a car - provided there were no further surprises. Fortunately, cabbies seem to have sixth sense about dodging both traffic and road-related problems in general. Something I'll admit I've yet to master after a year and now two cars here.

"You look familiar kid. You ever been in my cab before?" he asked brightly. I thought about it. I try not to spend too much on cabs, and normally I would have walked, but a two mile walk carrying my backpack and all of my groceries was a hassle I just couldn't imagine after losing my car. Again. Shit… that was it, wasn't it? "I actually think this is the second time you've picked me up after losing a car. You remember picking up a completely soaked guy on the side of the street a few months back? Smelled like burning rubber and was probably light on manners?" I said looking at the rear mirror with an awkward smile.

"Hah! That was you? Wait, wait, wait. Let me get this right. I picked your sorry ass off the side of the road because your first car got torched? Man your luck is certainly something else! How did it even catch fire in the middle of a damn rainstorm?" Tomek (or so the nameplate said) asked, barely containing his laughter.

"Yeah yeah, laugh it up" I said trying to contain a smile. Even I could see the comedic value from his perspective. "The thing is? No one knows. No one actually saw what happened, but I'm told by my garage that the car didn't stop burning for hours. There was literally nothing to save by the time the fire stopped" and so I had to dance with the insurance bureaucracy in order to get at least some money for a new car.

"That's a tough break kid. I swear, things used to be better this close to Metropolis, but there are just too damn many super-weirdoes these days. Don't seem like the cops or the tights out there can keep up out here". Tomek had a point. Statistics for insurance rates, damages etc. had been steadily rising most of my life due to the advent of superpowers. Collateral damage was just a part of living these days. "Actually, it's much better the further away from the big cities you are. I grew up in the Midwest a couple of hours away from any of the big cities, and we were rarely bothered by any of the supers." I stated a little curtly. "It's a little like criminal statistics before superpowers. Most super powered events are concentrated around major urban centers. More people, more money, more everything" I continued matter-of-factly. "You sound like one of those news-people. You work for a paper or study journalism or some such?" Tomek asked with a tone of approval. "Nah, something much less glamorous I'm afraid. Political Science at MetU" I said, just waiting for the inevitable joke. An unimpressed grunt met my ears a second later "Political Science? Really? And here I was starting to like you!" he exclaimed with a comically pained expression.

The truth is, political science isn't exactly popular here in the states, or hell even in most of the western world these days. A mixture of incompetence and helplessness on one side and corruption on the other has tarnished the credibility of the political sciences… well, further tarnished it. "Well, we're here" Tomek said with a smile, and I forked over enough bills for the trip and a fair tip. "Thanks for the ride, I hope the rest of your day is less eventful than mine Tomek" I said with a brief nod before leaving the car".

"Tom!" he shouted after me, much to my confusion "Excuse me?" I said turning around "Not Tomek, Tom! No one calls me Tomek here. What's your name kid?" Right, I could relate to not quite embracing your parents idea of naming conventions. "Tom it is. I'm Will". Well, that's not strictly speaking true, but much like Tomek, I really prefer people not calling me 'Wilhelm'. "Good to meet you again Will!" Tom called driving off in a screech of tires.

* * *

I walked up to my soot-covered red-brick apartment building… and continued all the way around. See I don't live above ground with a nice view of the good parts of Metropolis, but that's entirely by choice. Instead I've rented a series of converted basement rooms in the rough shape of a two bedroom apartment. It sounds worse than it is though. It was renovated sometime within the last decade, and has a full kitchen and bathroom. Truth be told, I had a full bedroom more than most people in the building, and for basically the same cost. Apparently most others here didn't want to live underground with only marginal access to natural light. I didn't particularly mind though. In between school and my part-time job, I was often home around sundown anyway, and the extra room meant I didn't have to worry about storage.

My phone signal is a bit wonky though, and you do have to get used to some of the odd sounds from heating units and such, but like I said, small price to pay. My spare bedroom also had the bike I hadn't used since I put it there, comfortably snug beneath a noticeable layer of dust. I put my groceries away, and with a deep sigh I got out my phone, it was time to arrange for my car to get towed back to my local garage, and then the always courteous, albeit wildly frustrating, folks at my insurance company.

An hour and most of my remaining patience later, I'd finally gotten my car taken care off. The insurance company would be in contact with my garage, and then me once they'd evaluated the damages and whatever compensation that might net me. For now though, I was restricted to my bike and whatever public transportation was convenient and affordable.

They say the best way to handle a band-aid is to tear it off in one go and quickly. I stared longingly at my fridge, but I knew I had one last call to make. "Wilhelm?" a soft but surprised voice sounded over the phone. "Will, mom. Will" I automatically corrected her "Look, I've got some bad news. My car is in the shop again. Judging from the person-shaped dent in the hood and windshield I think it's safe to say it's another casualty of Metropolis unique circumstances". I could all but feel my otherwise mild mannered mom's temperament spike "Another car Wilhelm? How are you going to get to class without a car? And have you called the insurance company? Do you need any help? Do you need us-"I quickly interrupted her rant "Mom! It's fine. I'll bike or take the bus for now, and yes I've called my insurance and the garage that dealt with my last car. No I don't need any help, though I do appreciate you offering. Don't worry about it, I just wanted to let you guys know"

I could hear my mom taking a deep breath, and calming herself a bit before speaking again "If that's what you think is for the best - but you know we're here if you need help, right?" By 'us' she meant her and my dad, and they would help if I asked – they always had before, but they weren't exactly rolling in money, and I didn't want to abuse their help. Besides, they were already paying for most of my college expenses. "I'm sure mom. Just wanted to let you guys know. Look, I've gotta get some dinner ready and then do some reading for class tomorrow. Say hi to dad for me" I responded climbing out of my soft couch in order to get started on dinner "I will. Be safe" she said before hanging up. It was time to brave the kitchen and try out my questionable culinary skills. Joy.

* * *

I went the extra mile this morning and decided to park my bike in the underground parking complex connected to MetU. No falling building façades this time, no siree! It meant a longer trip on my bike, and a longer walk to class, all the way through the natural sciences departments of campus – you know the well-funded departments with the cushy chairs in their student lounges and plenty of power sockets. It was also home to the exhibition lab.

This time around, it seemed that STAR Labs scientists on loan from the West Coast were working on some metagene wizardy – odd pulsing tubes here and there, and a red one prominently on display in the middle. Personally I thought there were too many supers as it was, but it wasn't like I had any say in it. Walking from the natural sciences departments and, through the humanities and all the way to political science department a clear trend was forming, everything was getting noticeably more dull and worn. The colors were slightly faded here and the furniture had clearly seen better days. With that being said, everything was still fully functional, it just wasn't magazine cover material.

I walked into the lecture hall nodding to a few of the people that I had worked with or talked to over the past three semesters. My classmates were nice enough I guess, but between different specializations, electives and a part-time job on the side, I wasn't really winning any socialization prizes. To be honest, I'm probably making excuses. I could do more – hell I should do more, but I never really imagined staying around Metropolis after getting my degree, so that factored in as well.

An unassuming young man started waving, the motion catching my eyes "Hey Will! I saved a seat for you buddy!" I gave him a smile and a wave back, walking over an empty seat in the center of the middle row "Hey David. Cheers, I appreciate the seat" Ah, yes. David. He was a great guy really, only he tried a little too hard at times. Frankly I would have even less of a social-life here in Metropolis if it wasn't for his good natured nudging. Physically he was my opposite, short, dark-haired and slightly hefty, where I was on the tall side, with blonde hair and if I was being a little generous, lean. David's jovial nature and personality made up for his lack of physical presence however, and he was generally well liked. "So Will, you gonna join me and some others for a drink one of these days? There's always room for one more, you know" he asked in a cheerful voice. I mulled it over for a bit. I don't particularly mind drinking, or even the company of David and the group he usually went with, but I made most of my money on weekends. "I don't know man, either I'll have to trade some shifts, or I'll show up barely awake" I stated, trying to let him down easy. "You always work on weekends Will. You need to live a little you know? See the sights, dance with a girl, get some air!" David said, wildly gesturing with his arms. I sighed while grabbing my phone; time to bring out the big guns.

David's cheerful mood starting dying real fast after seeing the pictures of my car, I didn't have to explain why I was hesitant in spending any money that I didn't strictly have to "Holy shit! Did you see who decide to get intimate with your ride? Did he even leave a tip?" trying to lighten my mood a little. He understood – everyone who had lived in Metropolis for any length of time had seen the collateral damage of super-powered fights "Nope! Not a cent. Didn't even leave a number" I smiled, grateful for him trying to lighten the mood a little.

We didn't get any further as our teacher walked in, already in full swing with today's lecture before even getting to the small podium front and center in the lecture hall. With a familiar noise of chairs scraping over linoleum flooring and the sound of clasps and zippers opening, everyone hurriedly got notebooks or laptops out of bags – the tapping sound of fingers dancing over keys followed soon after.

I was falling into a bit of a daze by the time the lecture wrapped up. Too much theory delivered at break-neck pace often does that, but looking at the mess of broken sentences and isolated words on my screen, I did get in a good amount of notes – I mostly understood them too.

While I was packing up my bag, and about to leave David spoke up "Will. I don't mean to intrude or beat a dead horse and all that, but you really should join us one of these days. We won't be young forever, right? Anyway, I'll leave you to it. Give me a call if you change your mind!" I gave him a small smile "I'll keep it in mind. Don't worry, I've just been a tad busy lately. We'll get a beer or something once I've dealt with the car. Deal?" David snorted, shaking his head a little "Sure buddy. Give me a call and we'll figure something out. Take care."

I spent the next couple of days trying to manage the vortex that was school work and subbing as many shifts as I could get my hands on, making for a long couple of days when combined with my own weekend shifts. The thing is, my fridge was running empty, bills were right around the corner, and I just knew I wouldn't like what my insurance company eventually had to say.

* * *

Well, I suppose I was right. Sort of. Monday after class, I was finally contacted by my insurance. News wasn't exactly good – partial coverage – but at least my car was fixable. The reason for the partial coverage had to do with a nifty (for them, not me) little clause about damages related to "super-powered incidents" meaning they only had to partial compensation, and I'd be stuck with my deductible and a some of repair expenses. On the bright side (for me, not them), the same nifty clause meant they couldn't raise my premiums, as I had no control over damages of that type. Small victory, that, but I'll take it.

The interesting thing about the call however, was that they apparently had CCTV footage of the incident. Made sense I guess, what with all the storefronts around the parking lot. Deciding I needed a drink, I slowly got out of my desk chair, a small stretch provoking a series of popping sounds from various bones and joints – probably the result of my sedentary lifestyle these days. Well that and my height. I've yet to meet anyone my height that's gone through his teenage years without picking up some minor problems with either their back or knees.

I found a lonely can of soda rolling around on the top shelf, practically calling my name. Ah well, might as well have a little something sweet to go with the sour taste of watching my car go death by super calamity. I heard the distinctive buzzing sound of a phone vibrating on a hard surface and turned to see a flashing light from the top of my desk - probably the mail I was preparing for. Well then, time to see what asshole had wrecked my car this time. I opened my mail, and sure enough, the mail was there waiting, a media file embedded. I forwarded a surprisingly non-grainy and full-colored recording of my pre-wrecked car to my TV on the wall. I turned towards the screen and leaned back, the chair creaking in familiar protest. I started getting a little impatient when it happened. A man in a weird form-fitting metallic suit crashed spread-eagle unto the hood, windscreen and roof of my poor car, the shock of the landing, sending two tires violently tearing off their joints and axles, and bouncing out of view. At this point, my biggest regret was that there was no audio, so I didn't get to hear metal-suits following and very obvious groan of pain.

I'll give him this though, he could take a punch. A few seconds after the crash, he rolled off my car and quickly, albeit with a distinct flopping of his tube-like right arm, ran out of the picture. Who was this guy supposed to be, anyway? I mean I follow the news, and I've seen a fair few of the supers on TV, but this guy didn't ring a single bell what-so-ever. I suppose at this point, he was the problem of my insurance company or the police, but if I ever saw that asshole, I wouldn't mind giving him a piece of my mind… at a distance of course.

* * *

Metropolis proper really was a good looking city. Modern and sleek, parks and green areas interspersed between neighborhoods and districts at regular intervals. One thing that really made a difference though, was the smell and how clean it looked. Miami might try for that whole white to off-white color scheme, but most of the buildings were discolored from exhaust fumes and time, and while the Big Apple itself looks cleaner with its metal and glass design, there was the smell! Garbage bags dumped on every street corner and rats skittering around in broad daylight. No, Metropolis proper had none of that; the main parts of the city looked exactly like it was ripped out of a post card. It was all smooth and clean buildings, beautiful parks and large public recreational areas.

Passing several LexCorp buildings, a STAR Labs facility and even a Wayne Foundation building, it wasn't hard to imagine why Metropolis was a modern marvel of urban planning and architecture, it essentially being home to some of the largest commercial enterprises in the world, and probably the single largest concentration of high-tech development in the western society – City of Tomorrow indeed.

I was actually enjoying biking up one of the main avenues, the feeling of the late summer breeze on my skin and the smells of the city were pleasantly invigorating, although the surroundings were appealing, It didn't escape me that a large part of the price for all of this was carried by the people on the outskirts of Metropolis, people like me. I couldn't do much about that right now, so I made the most of what the city had to offer.

I pulled up to the sidewalk, and jumped off my bike, almost falling on my face when my left foot caught the top of the frame. I ended up jumping around on one leg a few times before getting my other foot over the bar, hoping in vain that no one had seen my little impromptu dance. While some amused looks were sent my way, I decided that discretion being the better part of valor; if no one commented on it then I sure as hell wouldn't either.

I ducked my increasingly reddening face, bunched up my shoulders and pulled my bike across the road to my destination, trying to firmly ignore everything else but my goal: The Bookstore. Not "a" bookstore, no, to me this was THE bookstore. I had yet to leave the store disappointed in the year that I'd known about it. It took up the first three floors of an older but pristine building from before Metropolis was even called that. On the ground floor old-world fairytale figures cut into the grey stonework of the building façade, and what seemed like the original door was still in use, robust dark wood freshly lacquered, but showing the little scratches and dents of several decades of use. The robustness and style of the ground floor was reflected inside, with lots of dark wood and cushy but well-used furniture. To me, it felt like home. I think it was the smell. Anyone who's ever been to an old bookstore or a library storage room will know what I'm talking about, that distinct but pleasant smell of hundreds of different kinds of paper made from different materials and different techniques over the decades. Combined with the scent of old wood, leather and coffee, this was as close to ideal as it could get.

"Afternoon Mr. Sanders, busy day?" I greeted the elderly gentleman behind the desk with a tired smile, still a little embarrassed about my stunt across the road. "Good Afternoon Will. We had a good showing some hours ago, but I daresay most of my customers are looking for food at this time of day, not books and coffee"

"I know, I know, people have dreadful priorities these days" I said with a smirk and getting a knowing smile in return. I didn't really mind the mixed crowd that one would usually find here, but I did prefer browsing the store when there were fewer people around. Less obstacles and waiting around that way. "Say Will, are you looking for something specific today or are you planning on going on one of your treasure hunts again?" Oh yeah, I'd definitely been here too much over the past year. "Just exploring today sir, maybe a coffee as well" I said with a hint of curiosity. Sure, we greeted each other, and he knew my name, but this was probably one of the longest conversations we'd ever had. "Marvelous. I don't suppose I can impose on you to keep an eye on the register while I haul a few boxes upstairs?" Mr. Sanders asked with a bright smile and an eye-crinkle. Huh, so that was what the reason for his sudden bout of verbosity. "Of course, but I could just grab the boxes for you instead? I'm heading up anyways" I genuinely offered. As far as I was concerned, hauling a few boxes up the stairs wasn't worth mentioning. "I would truly appreciate the assistance. The stairs do get more daunting with every passing year. Tell you what, you get these three boxes" Mr. Sanders pointed at three neatly packed wooden boxes stacked besides the large desk with the register on "- and the two by the coffee bar up to the den on the second floor, and I'll let you pick out a book to take home. I hope that seems fair" he did genuinely seem relieved at not having to brave the stairs, and frankly I'd have done it for free – but gift horses and mouths, right? "More than fair, sir. I'll get right on it" I said while moving towards the boxes with a spring in my step.

I was about to grab all three boxes at once but thought better of it. Not only would it probably be heavier than I expected, but I wasn't entirely sure the bottom box could actually handle the full weight of all three. I could see Mr. Sanders doing an amused shake of his head, probably noting my fingers grabbing at different handles and guessing at my little international discussion. "Don't hurt yourself lad" he said in an amused tone. I smiled back sheepishly, picking up the top two boxes and started up the stairs, the creak of wood under carpet following each step I took.

If the bottom floor was an expression of tradition, then the first floor was its opposite. It, like the third floor I was heading for, was recently renovated and judging from the décor, probably to attract a wider range of people. As I made it up to the second floor, I was greeted by the always welcome aroma of coffee mixed in with the more artificial scent of newer books with their colorful and shiny covers. There were posters covering most of the walls, and a few cardboard cut-outs from several franchises here and there. But what really made the second and third floor different from the first, was the huge panorama windows taking up one entire side of the floor, giving the customers and readers a fantastic view over the park across the road. While not quite homey, it was bright, inviting and always gave you something to look at.

I lowered the boxes a little so I could see over them. Wouldn't do to make a fool of myself and almost fall twice in a single day. Fortunately the second floor was largely deserted just as Mr. Sanders had indicated, so I wouldn't have to get creative in getting to the second floor stairs. The third floor was similar to the second, in that it was fairly bright, and had the wide panoramic view over the park, though arguably an even better view due to the height. It was also different though, in that the shelves filled with books, were positioned in such as way as to make a little den-like area in the middle, were a couple of new, but comfortable couches and easy chairs were clumped in a rough semi-circle. While I preferred the first floor greatly, the den was definitely a passable alternative. I gently put down the two boxes by a table, and started down the stairs again.

Mr. Sanders briefly looked up the screen on the desk and nodded distractedly when I picked up the last box and hauled it up to the third floor. I only needed to get the two boxes by the small coffee bar downstairs. I rubbed my fingers a little, trying to get the blood flowing again. The boxes were heavy, and being made of wood made the handles slightly more abrasive than I'd thought. Not a big deal though, and two more boxes certainly wouldn't harm. I got down the creaky stairs to the second floor and saw a young blonde sitting at the coffee bar. The bar wasn't currently manned, so she was drinking instant coffee – left out for customers for just such a situation. The creaking of the stairs alerted her to my presence, and with a small start she turned her head towards me.

She was… pretty enough I guess. She had her blonde hair up in a messy and slightly lopsided bun, and round glasses that were frankly too large for her head. Despite that, she was still attractive in her own way, but she certainly wasn't doing herself any favors. When she leveled her gaze at me, I tried for a comforting smile, which honestly probably came off as a bit of a grimace. She seemed slightly startled, and I probably had some color in my cheeks from walking up and down stairs a bit faster than was strictly necessary. It was needlessly awkward, so I –

"Excuse me, do you work here?" the young woman asked in an even tone, breaking into my thought-stream.

"Uhm.." I said, displaying the height of intelligence, while trying to force myself to breathe through my nose and not my mouth. I was in better shape than this, damnit! "Uh no, not as such. I'm just doing Mr. Sanders – the owner – a favor, that's all." I got out, somewhat more coherently. Way to go Will!

The blonde's face fell a little "Oh. Never mind then, I'm sorry I interrupted your work – I mean favor"

Hah, guess I wasn't the only one caught on my back foot. "It's okay, no harm done. Besides, I'm sorta a regular here, so I could probably help you out if there's something you need to find?"

The young woman produced a startlingly bright smile, transforming her from sort of attractive, to pretty damn attractive. Welp, not really what I needed to improve my coherence.

"I'd like that" she beamed while continuing "Do you know where I can find the academic section? I need a book for one of my university courses"

"I usually get mine at the MetU library – student discounts and all that, but Mr. Sanders does have a selection downstairs. I can show you the specific section if you want?" I offered, almost slipping into that customer service personality that everyone who's ever work in the service industry inevitably develops.

"If it isn't too much trouble" she smiled "You said that you're a student at MetU? What do you study? Oh! I'm Linda by the way, Linda Lang"

I gave a light laugh at the way she managed to rush out her own little introduction, making her blush ever so slightly, and avert her eyes for a moment. "I'm Will. Will Putnam, and yeah, just started my fourth semester at MetU Political Science."

"Oh! that'so cool! Public service is a very admirable path! I just started my first semester, but as you can see, I'm missing a book for class" She said with frankly more enthusiasm than I'm used to regarding my chosen field

"Sure, thanks I guess" I said taken aback, that was a lot of assumptions on her part, but I didn't have the heart to tell her that with a few electives during the bachelor and especially the masters program, I could just as well get a job in the private sector focusing on economics or management.

She gently picked up the plastic cup from the bar, and gulped down the rest of her steaming coffee, before throwing the cup in the garbage can. I fully expected a whimper with how hot that coffee looked, but she didn't even seem to react, simply turning around on the stool on sliding off. She self-consciously smoothed down her knee-length skirt and her too-large cardigan, looking away the entire time. I didn't get it. Sure, I didn't expect anyone to show off all their goods the way some girls (or even guys - save me from skinny jeans!) do, but she seemed to go out of her way to tone down her looks. Oh well, wasn't my place to comment, I barely knew her, and like most things there was probably a reason.

I cleared my throat and walked down the stairs to the first floor, Linda following me down, and proceeded to guide her towards the correct section when Mr. Sanders spoke up "Will, are you done with the boxes?" Drat. I may have gotten a little sidetracked there.

"Not quite yet Mr. Sanders, Linda here" I pointed at the blonde, the attention making her give small smile and wave "- asked me if I knew where the academic section is. I'll get the last two boxes now"

"No cause for alarm Will, I can hardly blame you for helping someone in my store" With that said, his focus was back to the screen on the desk, the sound of keys being pressed intermittently gradually fading while we walked to the back corner of the store.

"Well, here we are" I said, gesturing at a several solid shelving units filled with books of various sizes, and divided with little index cards, roughly telling a prospective customer where to look. "If it isn't on the shelves, you could ask Mr. Sanders if he can order it in. Might be faster than ordering online"

"Thank you so much Will. I hope I didn't get you into trouble or anything?" she said with a small smile, some concern obvious in her voice.

"Don't worry about it, I'm hardly in trouble – it's not like I work here" I said with a quiet laugh

"Well. I won't take up any more of your time. I'm in a bit of a hurry – I wasn't planning on this trip taking so long. Besides, I seem to recall that you have two boxes waiting for you" the young woman said giving me a relieved smile, her fingers fidgeting with a string of messy blonde hair, trying to tuck it behind her ear.

"Ah right, I suppose they won't move themselves. Well, I hope you find what you're looking for." I gave her a sheepish smile, and a nod as I turned around, heading for the stairs.

"Hey Will!" I heard Linda calling from behind me, turning towards her again with a surprised look on my face.

"I'll probably stop by here again. I mean, you can't beat the view, right?" Linda chuckled a little nervously then realizing how that might sound with only the two of us there "I mean the park! The windows! Upstairs!" A loud groan and a mumble followed her panicked exclamation. "Ugh, If you see me again, come say hi, okay?" she finally finished, quickly disappearing down one of the aisles.

Huh. That has got to be the first conversation I've had with a pretty girl, where I wasn't the main source of the awkwardness. Go team Will!

I finally got the boxes up to the third floor, but by the time I said goodbye to Mr. Sanders and walked out of the bookstore I'd completely forgotten about my free book.

* * *

I brought a large lunch to class today; well I suppose it could be a large dinner considering that this afternoon lecture wouldn't be done until early evening. I had a paper that was later the following week, but I wanted to get ahead on it, so I could grab some more extra shifts if and when they popped up. So I brought a large lunch/dinner to class, so I could spoil myself a little in the nice natural sciences student lounge while writing the paper. It would also mean being closer to MetU library in case I needed it, and the chairs here were frankly better than any I owned, and it was a much less distracting work environment. Probably the point I guessed. I took my usual notes, but in the back of the class this time, as David hadn't shown up and saved a seat this time. I thought about sending him a text, but it frankly wasn't entirely uncommon for my David to "accidently" skip a couple of the later lectures. If not for the paper I was planning on writing, I would probably be a little envious of his decision. Some lectures are great with loads of student/teacher interaction and such, and others were more of the "let's have Professor A read from a paper for hours straight variety" this was, unfortunately of the latter type.

One good thing about David not being here, Is that I could escape from the lecture hall with a minimum of fuzz. Some polite goodbyes, nods and waves, and I was on my way through the deserted hallways. I was actually expecting more activity when I got to the natural sciences departments, but they were just as deserted. Fair enough, that just meant even fewer distractions for me and an absolute guarantee of a good spot in their student lounge.

* * *

A few hours later I was sitting in the now-completely deserted natural sciences student lounge, writing the last part of the paper when the noise and vibrations started.

Shit! I got up and walked to the windows looking out towards the city center when I saw a beam of yellow spearing the sky from the streets and briefly banishing the darkness of the evening. I jogged back to my laptop and backpack, quickly packing up. If needed, I was going to be ready to take off.

With another series of vibrations a light flashed towards the sky again, this time much closer than before. Double shit! Most super powered conflicts were usually either dealt with fairly quickly or pushed out of Metropolis proper – the density of people, high-tech ventures and sky-scrapers too much of a risk for prolonged fights. Usually they ended up much closer to my neck of the woods.

A third flash of light and even heavier vibrations forced me to make a decision. The fight was definitely getting closer to the university, too close and too fast. I wasn't planning on being here when it finally arrived.

I got on my light coat and backpack, already one leg out the door of the student lounge when a cacophonous wave of pressure and sound hit my body from behind. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground, my vision hazy, plaster and dust raining down around me. I struggled to my knees, finally seeing the huge gash, leaving the student lounge and the hallway open to the elements. I finally got all the way up, my knees a little shaky, one shoulder leaning against the wall, but my eyes were still hazy, and I didn't seem to be able to get rid of the ringing in my ears. I stumbled forwards, trying to move quickly towards the nearby stairwell, hopefully then being able to get to the parking garage, where not only would I be safer from stray what-ever-the-hell was being shot off, but I'd be able to get to my car and leave.

I stumbled forwards, ignoring the now oddly soundless flashes of light and vibrations, trying not to think about the wet feeling running down my face. I could see the stairwell further ahead, or at least the door. Step by painful step I got closer, the proximity giving me a much needed second wind, I straightened up and took a deep breath, steadying myself on the cold smooth glass.. wait, what? I turned my head, and found myself looking straight into the STAR Labs exhibition lab, despite everything on the other side being covered by a layer of dust and debris, it couldn't cover the pulsing dark red light coming from a the huge tube that was hooked up in the middle of the room. I stumbled back, jerking back my hand like it'd been burned. This is NOT where I wanted to be with the building falling apart around me.

I frantically scrambled over the hallway floor, but lost any all traction to the dust-covered floor. I only managed to straighten up when something hit me again. I felt brief flare of pain bathing the left side of my body, before with the crash of shattering glass the pain was joined by a burning sensation down my entire right side and then shortly after, nothing at all.

I woke up to the smell of something acrid and synthetic, and the taste of blood and something I couldn't quite place. I felt warm – too warm, and my heart was beating an uncomfortable staccato rhythm. I tried opening my eyes, but only one eyelid listened to my command, the other one on fire like the rest of the left side of my face. I reached up with one hand, gingerly touching my face. It was wet, my hand coming back the familiar red of blood and a brighter glowing red, the two liquids almost like oil and water. Running on fear and instinct, I pulled myself to my feet when I heard a groan from the other side of the lab. A man was lying in a heap of broken glass and machines, close to the massive hole in the wall; A man in a metallic armor with a tube-like right arm – the end of it glowing the tell-tale cherry red of hot metal.

I couldn't help but notice him, even without his helmet on. I'd seen him wrecking my car on film only a few days ago. The groaning increased, and he rolled over onto his hands and knees, his head facing the floor. I'm not sure what happened, but the next moment I was running towards him, with energy I was sure I didn't have five minutes before, something solid in my hand. With a wordless shout, I smashed the object over the back of his head, the action making him fall back to the ground quiet, and me slip and fall over again. I was breathing heavily, on the edge of panic, crawling backwards. The sound of nails on a chalkboard made me look at the object I was dragging with me across the floor, the object I'd just brained metal man with. I almost let out a crazed laugh when I found myself looking at a solid and technologically advanced-looking metal helmet - his technologically-advanced looking metal helmet.

I crawled backwards, trying to get some distance, when I felt one of my hands touching familiar fabric. I pulled up my bag, distractedly noting that it was too light. I let out a wheeze and a dry laugh, scooping up the pile of cables and papers that had spilled out of my bag, I ran towards the now-absent glass wall and towards the stairwell. The smell of dust and plaster in the air had been replaced by that of smoke, and I absently felt an unnaturally cold breeze coming from the huge tears in the hallway. I stumbled down the sub-level parking garage, each story going by in a blur of colors and impressions, sometimes I seemed to black out, skipping an entire floor number or two.

I was finally down, breaking through the door and looking for my car. The parking garage was basically empty, but my car still wasn't to be found. I must have taken the bus or walked? I didn't have time to waste, metal man could wake up at any point. I hoofed it. I ran as hard as I could the smell of smoke in the air and the sound of sirens gradually approaching and then fading. I heard questioning shouts and the screech of tires, but it didn't really process. My heart was beating like a machinegun, and I felt like my lungs were coming apart, but I needed to get away, far, far away!

I felt a pulling sensation and my vision went black. My sight came back, but I was further than I thought I should be – I must have kept running down the street. I blacked out while running several more times, but I finally made my way to the basement entrance of my apartment building, swaying and gasping as I turned the key and shuffled inside. I fell over near my couch and I didn't seem to be able to summon the strength to get back up. Oh well, my couch was pretty comfortable and-


	2. Chapter 2 - Hangover From Hell

**Author's note:**

 **Not much to say, uploaded at the same time as the first chapter. This one is a tad longer.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **Chapter 2 – Hangover from hell**

I woke up with a drawn-out groan. Oh god, even trying to open my eyes hurt.

"Ughh.. I gotta say no to David next time.. drinking bad.." I mumbled to myself, rolling over and fumbling for my phone. I couldn't find it for the simple reason, that not only was I not in my bed, and therefore nowhere near my side table, but I had apparently also fallen asleep in my pants, could feel a familiar square pressed against my thigh.

That made me wake up more than anything. Sure I've been drunk – sometimes too drunk – here and there, but I'm usually lucid enough that I at least undress and get in my bed. And why did everything feel so damn sticky and grimy? I rolled off the couch, and tried to stand up - tried being the operative word here. Lances of pain shot through my entire body when I started rising making me yelp in surprise and pain, and fall back on top off the couch, only increasing the pain. I tipped my head back, tears welling beneath my eyelids while I let out a silent string of curses.

I waited a while for most of the pain to subside, pitying myself the entire time. Damnit, I couldn't even open my left eye! I stayed like that for what seemed like hours, but I'm pretty sure the pain and frustration made time go much slower than it should. I finally had enough of wallowing in self-pity and steeled myself. I needed to get up. I needed to find a mirror. And I needed to figure out what hell had happened to me.

I finally managed to get up, more prepared for the pain this time, and I merely felt like the unholy combination of the day after a workout from hell and a major hangovers. Still couldn't open that stubborn left eye though, felt like it was glued shut and there definitely was something crusty on and around my eyelid. Had I been in a fight? I quickly dismissed that idea. I didn't do fights. Like at all. I may be tall enough that some people would find me intimidating, but I don't even know how to throw a punch, much less get into or win a fight. Well… judging from the constant protest of my body, if I had been in a fight, then I clearly hadn't been doing the winning.

I shuffled towards the bathroom, every step followed by a grunt of pain, my arm tracing the wall the entire way. I wasn't going to fall over again, but the extra support was… comforting –more so than I liked. I finally got to the bathroom door, shoving it open with one sore shoulder, and moved to the sink and mirror. I didn't even try to look at myself to begin with, simply trying to get my bearings before looking at the mess that was no doubt my face.

Okay, I admit it; I was avoiding having to look at the mirror. I was scared. I was in more bodily pain than I'd ever been in before, my hands where caked in blood and filth, and I couldn't open one of my eyes. I grabbed both sides of the sink, my knuckles white and quickly raised my head. What looked back was a mess of dried blood and fluorescent reds, all liberally dusted with white and grey. Whatever I was prepared for, it certainly wasn't this. I jerked back and with a pulling sensation and a brief loss of vision I found myself falling over, hitting something cold and hard. The fridge? What the hell was happening to me? I scooted back, momentarily ignoring the discomfort of the action, and found myself staring at my kitchen and not my bathroom. My head was pounding away in rhythm with my heart and my stomach felt like it had received a swift kick. In fact, it felt… oh shit! I'd never reach the toilet! I only managed to roll over before whatever I ate last decided to escape my stomach, my one functioning eyelid closing shortly after.

I was drained – now almost literally. But there were too many questions. I didn't just fall out of my bathroom and somehow land in my goddamn kitchen which was more than ten feet away for crying out loud! It didn't explain the pulling sensation and it certainly didn't explain the momentary blackness. Something fucky was going on, and I needed to figure out what it was… after I got up from the increasingly comfortable laminate floor. A good twenty minutes passed, before I finally managed to find the motivation to get back up. As much as I didn't want to, it was time to brave the mirror again.

I knew what to expect this time, so the sight didn't freak me out as much, though it was still pretty disturbing. My left eye was crusted shut with blood, dust and pieces of plaster, and most of the left side of my face was covered in the same fluorescent red I had noticed before. I recognized that color, but only because I'd seen it before at MetU. The exhibition lab!

Images of bright yellow beams started unfolding in my mind, along with the taste of something acrid, and the overwhelming scent of smoke. My fingers tightened on my bathroom sink once again, a creaking sound coming from my knuckles. I remembered nearly dying. I remembered once again being the goddamn collateral of supers and their petty pissing matches. I was furious and scared, when one scene lifted my spirits a little. I remembered hitting one of the supers over the head with his own stupid helmet, causing him to crash into unconsciousness. The memory turned bittersweet when I realized that I recognized him. He was the same metal-clad super that almost killed my car a week ago. I didn't have any more flashes of memory after that, only the impression of wind on my face, and a profound sense of disorientation.

I needed to get a shower. I needed to figure out how messed up I was after being sent flying through glass and drywall. I'd like to say I stepped out of my clothes, but I honestly wouldn't have been able to get them off without a pair of scissors. Dried gunk had basically glued my pants and t-shirt to my body. I was able to get my shoes and outer shirt off, but the shirt probably couldn't be saved. It was red now, and suffice it to say, that it wasn't supposed to be that color. I gingerly walked into my shower cabin and turned on the water. Blessedly it was almost instantly warm – one of the perks of living in the basement, right next to the buildings water heater.

I let the water fall over my head and shoulders, slowing letting it loosen the blood and detritus stuck to me. I started gently rubbing the area around my eye, trying to get it open without losing my eyelashes in the process. With a bit of gentle coaxing and a veritable ton of water, my eyelid suddenly opened, sending a small spike of pain into my eye – the light, of course. By the time I was done, I was pleasantly surprised all things considered. While the water had a nasty reddish color and was filled with plaster that had been stuck to me, I was at the very least mostly clean now, and surprisingly I only seemed to be moderately bruised – hell there wasn't even any broken skin really, aside from what was probably a messy scalp-wound hidden in my hairline. With all the blood, I frankly considered that a minor miracle, especially with my eye being entirely functional. I'll admit, I wasn't entirely sure if this was normal or not. I'd never really been slammed full-body into a wall, and much less through a large glass screen, but I figured I had gotten off very lightly, maybe even too lightly.

I got on my comfy bathrobe, the heavy and warm kind and sat down on the easy chair across from my couch and coffee table. I sighed heavily while looking at my couch "I'm gonna need something to cover that with, aren't it?" the couch was… well it looked like a crime-scene. I'd have to try and clean the worst of it off later, but I didn't think anyone would be able to get those stains completely out – Just another headache to add to the list. I was doing my best trying not to think about my little 'event' that ended with me in the kitchen, when a sharp and angry sound came from my bathroom, catching me entirely off guard. One second I was sitting in my chair, the next I was sitting on the cold ground outside, looking at the basement entrance to my apartment complex from some twenty feet away.

I jumped up with an angry gasp "What the hell?! Shit!" I looked around, not seeing anyone close by, and started running towards the basement door, when it opened. Crap! I didn't want anyone see me bruised and wet, only in a robe and with no damn shoes. I felt a small stab of panic, quickly backing away from the door, looking wildly from side to side when all of a sudden I was back in my shower. The shock of my changing perspective sent me sprawling out of the fortunately open shower cabin and onto the floor. I released another groan, this one laced with more frustration than pain "this is really starting to get old…"

Okay okay okay. So… apparently I can somehow jump through walls or teleport or something. That's new and pretty cool… Sort of. I'm honestly not sure how I feel about the whole powered thing. Don't get me wrong, powers in and of themselves probably aren't bad, but either a lot of people that get them are, or the options they give you end up changing who you are and how you act. I wanted none of that… mostly. I couldn't deny that instantly transferring myself from one spot to another, teleporting I guess, could be a real time- and gas saver.

One thing I knew for sure though, was that donning tights and a cape wasn't in my future. That didn't mean I wouldn't have to get a hold on this whole panicky teleporting that was happening. I could hardly go to MetU and instinctively disappear whenever someone closed a book a little too hard or poked my shoulder without me noticing. Actually, at this point, I couldn't even really go to class today, as in I don't think I could physically get there without looking as bad as I felt. At least most of the bruises were under my clothing or hidden by my hair, so that was more or less manageable.

Honestly, I should probably go to the hospital with all that's happened, and I suppose for most people that would be fine and dandy. However I sorta doubted that I'd be able to manage the trip, the wait AND the checkout without having one of my… 'spatial' accidents, or being asked questions I couldn't actually answer. Thing is, while there are a lot of powered individuals out there and especially around the US east coast, but globally we're probably only talking about thousands out of billions of people – a complete statistical outlier. If I had- no I had powers, whatever the hell they were, then that would make me part of a very, very select group of individuals. Individuals like that, the world takes note of. That's why supers wear disguises, sense of aesthetics notwithstanding. I didn't want ANYONE to know that I had powers. It wasn't a world I really wanted to be part of. But given that I now had little choice, I could at least try to limit my exposure.

Speaking of statistics, I now had three distinct erhh.. 'spatial' events. I was spatially challenged. Great. Okay, three events is admittedly a small sample size for any analysis, but I didn't really have the luxury of waiting for more, especially with how erratic they were. Besides, as Ian Fleming wrote: "Once is an accident. Twice is coincidence. Three times is an enemy action."… Okay, so it's not the best example, but the point is this: if the same thing keeps happening in similar circumstances, then odds are that there's some sort of common denominator. Panic for one. Or fear. Emotions of that persuasion at any rate. That just wasn't a particularly helpful power, especially not given the lack of control in where I ended up. I considered pain, but then again, if pain triggered my lovely new ability, then with how I was feeling right now, it sure had a higher tolerance than I'd be willing to test.

What about something I could control though? Maybe the ability could do more than react. Maybe I could do more. I pushed my couch and easy chair up one wall, crowding my desk and pc, and my coffee table between the door leading to my bedroom and bathroom respectively. I had a fairly clear space in front of me now. No sharp objects, nothing to fall over. Good. Time to get to work. I sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor looking at the empty expanse in front of me, trying to calm myself and the little voice in my head saying I'd gone off the deep end.

"Just visualize, Will. Nothing to it. Not like having powers is new, right?" I snorted.

I tried focusing on the middle of the room, right on the carpet covering the cold stone floor. "Come on, come on! Move!"... nothing. "Okay, how about this. Teleport!" I shouted. Yeah, zilch. "Powers, activate!"I hissed. No dice. I kept shouting commands and making drastic hand and arm gestures (Hey it worked for Harry Potter and wands) for well over an hour with an absolute lack of tangible results.

Okay so this was getting a little embarrassing. So maybe my powers weren't voice activated, which was frankly a bit of a relief – I'm not sure I'd be able to keep a straight face while shouting something like 'powers activate'. I tried thinking about anything I could remember around the time I teleported before. Well, aside from fear, surprise and panic. There was a pulling sensation wasn't there? Okay it sounded a little weak, but I tried clearing my thoughts while focusing on the far wall. I tried imagining a glow around my body, connected to a tether or rope, and then slowly pulling the tether, metaphorically dragging myself to the far wall.

The pulling sensation took hold, my eyes going wide and my mouth opening before I was literally sitting with my nose pressed to the wall, not having moved a muscle, quickly scrabbling back from the wall, my heart practically in my throat and hammering wildly. Success! Terrifying, but a success! I got my breathing and heart rate under control and turned towards the opposite wall, trying to port back to where I started. I found the 'tether' faster this time, and almost immediately felt the pull and the hard floor beneath me.

"Wilhelm Putnam, certified fucking genius!" I cackled madly, rushing to my bedroom and throwing myself unto the soft mattress. I was busy rolling around on my bed, still cackling, right until the moment I rolled off entirely with a yelp. I felt air beneath me for a split second before feeling a pull and the bed underneath me again. Okay, I sure didn't focus that time, and my eyes weren't even open. And the pull felt oddly different than when I actively teleported. First things first, could I pull on that tether with my eyes closed? I mean, in a sense it did kinda feel like trying to ride a bike or drive a car blindfolded which seemed needlessly dangerous. Like what if something moved in front of the picture I had mentally? What would happen to me or the object? Ugh, I think I've seen that movie, and it wasn't pretty. Half-way stuck through a wall anyone? But I mean, that wouldn't happen in my own apartment, right?

I took a deep breath and tried to ignore the nervous sweating my little inner monologue had produced and closed my eyes. I tried pulling the tether again, focusing on a mental picture of the clear space right in front of the open bedroom door. I felt the connection start to form, but something was different, the connection felt weaker, more uncertain. Before my nerves got the better of me, I quickly pulled the metaphorical tether… and almost instantly regretted not heeding the sense of unease I'd gotten.

I felt like someone had just sucker-punched me. I had a hard time getting in any air, and my heart was practically tap dancing in my chest. Cold sweat was breaking out all over my face and body and I could smell iron. I think I lay like that for half an hour before the shaking finally stopped.

"Okay, no closed eyes, line of sight needed. Message received" I said in a pitifully weak voice. I finally stepped out of my bedroom a short while after, deciding to get some food when I remembered the puddle of goop I'd left on my kitchen floor. Great.

 **Scene**

I was eating a light breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon, or judging from the time, probably an atypical lunch, when I remembered my phone. Damn, I had completely forgotten about it in the wake of my little experiment. Finishing off my eggs, I picked up my phone from the bathroom floor, noting that the white cover was stained red, and probably needed a cleaning I mused, before typing in the pin. I was met with five missed calls from my parents, and a couple of texts from David. Yikes, should've expected that after what happened at the university. The amount of calls probably would have quadrupled if any of the damages had actually been to the political sciences department, but as it were, I probably had a slightly miffed and worried mother. Well, there was no way I'd be fixing that with a text, so I decided to bite the bullet and call her up right away.

"Will! Are you alright? We tried calling you all morning after seeing the news!" my mom rushed out before I even really registered that the call had gone through.

"Ah, mom I'm fine. I'm alright. I just had a late night, and didn't get up till recently. My phone was in my pants, so I didn't hear the call" Well that was sort of true. The phone had been in my pants when she called, I just happened to also have been wearing those pants at the time. Sure, I was a little passed out, but she didn't need to know any of that.

"Oh thank god, we were getting so worried! We'd have been on our way down to Metropolis if it had been at your department! They haven't given any details yet, only what departments were damaged, and the identity of the man who did it" my mom said, breathing out a sigh of relief. Hah, nailed it.

"Uhh. Right. And who was that again?" I said sheepishly. I hadn't watched the news or even really done anything outside of my little experiments.

"Wilhelm Putnam! Are you telling me that you haven't even bothered to look at the news after your own university almost got destroyed?!"she accused, her tone noticeably on the heated side this time. Welp, I probably wasn't getting out of that one.

"Look I was home when it happened alright? I didn't really hear about it until I read a text from a classmate. Anyways I'm good, I promise. I'll let you know if anything changes, but no one I know is hurt" I said trying to appease my mom a little.

"… At least you're okay. But really, not even knowing that your own university was attacked?" I could all but taste the exasperation. Or maybe I could get of that one. Huh. Well I definitely shouldn't tell her that the Barrage dude was the same guy who wrecked my car. I didn't need my parents worrying any more than they needed to, nor make any sort of connection between me and him. Hell, I'd rather absolutely no one made any such connection, much less Barrage himself. If I saw him again, it'd be of my own choosing, and when I was good and ready. I slowly let out a pent up breath, and relaxed my muscles. I didn't want my death grip on my phone to actually break it.

"I know mom… Cue joke on young people being lazy and irresponsible and all that. I'll try to be more aware in the future."

"I'm not angry Wilhelm. We were just worried, and justifiably so. I was surprised that you'd managed to miss the entire thing. Usually you're more attentive than this" she scolded, though some of the heat seemed to have gone out of her.

"Any other day and I wouldn't have, I was just writing a paper till late in the night and slept in. Nothing too unusual, not like stuff like this didn't happen when I lived with you guys. Prerogative of the young, mom" I lightly chided her.

I heard a deep sigh over the line, and a brief pause "If you say so. But do try to take care of your studies so you don't have to stay up all night, okay? Your dad's at work, so I'll fill him in when he gets back"

We went back and forth a little after that, her asking about my studies in general and my mom asking me why I hadn't found a nice girl yet (ugh), and me asking about my family back home, as well as those of my friends that had stayed in the area. It was mostly innocent small talk, but it did manage to get my mom back to something approximating normal before the call ended. I got my furniture back in place before finally turning on the twenty four hours-news channel, not at all surprised to see coverage focusing on the partly demolished upper stories of the natural sciences department.

It was much worse than I expected. I mean, I did notice the smell of smoke on my clothing and I did seem to recall brief flashes of black smoke thinking back, but it hadn't prepared me for how bad it looked. It wouldn't stay that way for long though, the money would start pouring in soon enough, and supers would offer help with clearing and the like, probably trying to get some free PR. Regardless, nothing in central Metropolis was allowed to look this bad for long. It was as much a matter of tourism as it was business. Broken buildings begot? beget? whatever, more broken buildings. Broken windows theory put into practice, much like with NYC in the early nineties.

Unsurprisingly the whole natural sciences department was closed down until a temporary locale could be found, and new buildings constructed. It did say that aside from the parking garage under the building being closed, no other departments would be impacted by the damages after today. In other words, my lectures would continue as planned. Meh, missing one class was close enough to missing nothing at all.

After a view of the damage from a news chopper, mug shots of one Philip 'Barrage' Karnowski looking none too pleased were put on screen, stating he'd been taken in for a slew of offences including theft and destruction of public property. The one that stood out was single casualty however. Apparently an elderly cleaning-lady had died from smoke inhalation, and only a few yards from me when I was running down the stairwell to the parking garage. I… I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that. I mean, rationally I suppose I knew that someone could have died. Honestly it was almost a miracle that only a single person had been killed, but far as I was concerned, that was one life too many though. And for what? Theft? Really? As if I didn't have enough reason dislike Barrage… no, fuck that, If I ever met him, he'd be Phil. He'd lost his nom-de-guerre privileges as far as I was concerned.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when I saw something red and blue on the screen. I looked up and saw that apparently Supergirl had been the hero "one the scene" so to speak, and the person who Barra- Phil had been trying to shoot down. What an absolute idiot. I may not be particularly invested in the whole hero-culture that was running rampant, but I don't think anyone anywhere didn't know about Earth's two resident Kryptonians. You didn't fight Kryptonians, you just didn't, might as well try to divert a river with your hands for all the good it'd do you.

It seems Supergirl was also the one to punt Phil into the university, and inadvertently right into me. She did save the university from the worst of the fire, though I'll honestly admit to being baffled at how a fight against a man in a can ever got bad enough for there to be visible damage to the city, much less to a central landmark. The news coverage was as usual more focused on her heroic effort, instead of trying to ask a few actual critical questions, but that was hardly newsworthy. Hah, you know, news being newsworthy? Pun _so_ intended.

I turned away from the news coverage to look at the text and mail icon on my phone. It seems David had sent a pretty standard text about whether or not I'd heard about the fight and subsequent fire. I gave him a shorter version of what I told my mom. He was a bit more involved with the super-world than I was, so I definitely didn't need him involved in my little problem. The last thing to do was a couple of mails – most of them pretty standard fare, newsletters, offers and such. One stood out though. There was a mail from campus security. A pit formed in my stomach and a cold sweat broke out. Cameras. Of course there were cameras on a major university in one of the richest cities on earth. Those cameras would be even more heavily present near the goddamn exhibition lab. Shit! I hesitantly opened the mail my hand shaking ever so slightly:

 _Wilhelm Putnam_

 _You are asked to show up at Metropolitan University Campus Security offices at 8 am this Friday. We have reviewed our security footage, and are hoping you'll be able to shed some light on the events of Wednesday evening._

 _Kind regards,_

 _Miles Thompson,_

 _Head of MetU Campus Security_

Huh, an hour before my morning lecture, but they probably knew that, having access to school files and all that. On the surface, it seemed a lot less condemning than I feared, and it didn't seem there was any involvement from the police at all. That did beg the question of what exactly they'd seen however. I'd find out soon enough I guess, I couldn't exactly ignore their request without looking suspicious as hell.

Apropos the MetU, I decided it was probably a good idea to at least quickly scan the lecture material for tomorrow's lesson. I should probably also get in a little more practice with my powers. I still needed to get used to them so I wouldn't teleport away at the smallest provocation.

 **Scene**

I woke up at seven AM, giving me just enough time to get a shower and some breakfast before taking off. I was still pretty damn sore, but it shouldn't be overly visible unless someone who knew me was watching. I'd just seem a little stiff. I hoped. I went to fetch my bag from the corner of my living room, but ultimately dismissing that idea. Much like my clothing from after my run in with Phil and the vat of red goo, it was basically ruined, at least until I had time to throw it in the washer. I opened the bag, blindly rummaging around for my laptop and charger and stuffed it into a spare backpack – I'd have to make do with that for today.

Taking off turned out to be a bit of a problem however. I had no car, and I'd conveniently left with my bike two days ago during the attack. So now I had twenty minute bike ride ahead of me, but no bike. Drat. I briefly considered trying to catch a cab, but unless an available one drove past me, I was probably shit out of luck. Well… I suppose I did have one option left, and I had wanted to test the range of this thing after all.

I wasn't dumb enough to start teleporting from ground level – too many potential witnesses. But from the roof wearing sun-glasses and a hood pulled tight? Less people to see me, if any, and aside from general height and build, there'd be nothing to see. I walked up to the roof of my building, luckily not passing anyone on the stairs, but that was rather the point of taking the stairs and not the elevator. There was a good view over the buildings facing Metropolis proper, though the air was a bit colder – probably due to no buildings blocking the wind like on street level. I'd love to say that the air was also fresher up here, but in a city of this size, you couldn't get away from the perpetual exhaust fumes that easy.

While the view pretty great, it didn't change that I was pretty far up in the air and starting to reconsider my plan. I'd only ever done it inside of my apartment, so not only was the distance here far longer, but what if it didn't work half-way through? I'd only had a drop of a couple of inches inside of my apartment, but out here we'd be talking about yards, and quite a lot more than a couple. My one big hope here was that my ability seemed to let me know in a less than kind, but very direct way if I was reaching too far.

I inhaled and exhaled deeply a few times trying to control my nerves and stepped closer to the edge of the building. I needed to find a flat roof that wasn't too far away, and in the right direction, something I could feasibly teleport. I found one across the street from my own building, far enough away to be a record for distance, but close enough that it hopefully wouldn't be a problem. I focused on the building, visualizing where I wanted to go on the roof and _pulled_. Suddenly I had a slightly different view of the skyline, everything just a little closer and at a slightly different angle and dropped a few inches, almost spilling me on my ass. Ah, right, better prepare for that going forward.

I teleported from roof to roof, going a bit further each time, but always trying for roofs that seemed isolated and out of view. I made it all the way to the MetU without ever hearing any screams or seeing any pointing fingers. I'm not sure if that meant no one noticed, or if people from Metropolis are just overexposed to supers – either way, no attention was good attention right now. After trying a few roofs, I finally found a building with an unlocked roof-access, and hurried down the stairs to street level, breathing moderately heavy before I even made it down the first couple of steps. I figured it was much less suspicious coming out of a building like a normal person, rather than appearing right outside of the university.

 **Scene**

Fortunately it didn't seem as if any of the fallout of the attack on the university was aimed in my direction. I'd gone to the meeting with campus security, but all they wanted to know was if I'd seen anything, or if I'd been harmed in any way, as cameras had gone out across the entire university during the attack, something about Barrage's blasts messing with signals, and the actual damage to the natural sciences department, literally knocking out power in that area. Lucky me I guess. They offered counseling, trauma help and so forth, which I honestly appreciated, but no mind-doc was going to help with accidently getting powers – especially not if I didn't want that aspect going public.

David had also shown up to class, and had been in full-on geek mode about a super fight happening at our university. Frankly it was hard to stop him when he started picking up steam. Fortunately our professor managed to shut him up with a particularly venomous look. With the whole attack happening, he also forgot to badger me about going out and getting drinks that day, which suited me, just fine. I had other plans for that weekend, and they did not involve alcohol and loud music in the slightest.

Instead I decided that I needed to train my abilities more. I'd noticed that I got winded, and that my heart starting beating a steady but increasing rhythm the more and longer I teleported. I didn't quite know if the physical drawback was just that, or if it was more like a muscle, and thus open to training. Regardless of that being the case, I'd also noticed that I tended to 'jump' to a point a few inches above any surface, but that the fall seemed to vary. It might mean that with a little practice, I could have much smoother landings than I was currently experiencing. The most central thing I needed to test however, was how fast I could go (basically instantaneous, though repeating it for long distances or consecutive 'jumps' seemed to have a greater physical cost), and how my ability reacted to teleporting vertically instead of horizontally (it didn't, not that I could notice at least) as I'd primarily done so far. Fortunately, in Collateral City, my neck of the woods, there were plenty of empty construction zones, or buildings that had fallen victim to particularly nasty fights. As I saw it, it was a heaven for working on my abilities. I had privacy and all the horizontal and vertical surfaces I could wish for. The only problem was light, meaning I was restricted in how late I could practice, and under what conditions.

Mostly, what I learned was that it took energy to pull myself from place to place and that my biggest problem was basically the line of sight requirement I seemed to have when actively porting, so I'd hardly be teleporting to Tokyo for some good sushi, or Italy for pizzas. Getting to school though? Piece of cake, though I did have to be careful to not get noticed and there needed to be enough light to see by. Besides, I told myself that it was only temporary; I just needed my car back.

As it happened, I got a call from my garage that weekend, saying that my insurance company had coughed up for their part, and that I had the choice of whether or not I wanted them to also fix the superficial damage to my car. I figured I could hardly drive around in a car with a man-shaped dent on it, so I decided to order the full fix. Judging from the final price, the damages were actually lighter than I would have expected – well cheaper at least. I was told that I could pick up my car anytime after the weekend, so my little transport dilemma seemed to be fixed… which was probably a good thing seeing as it was getting a little too convenient being able to transport myself to school both cheaper and faster than in my car. Too convenient, and too tempting when my car wasn't here, so I'd better nip that habit in the bud.

 **Scene**

I'd heard a few times on the news that apparently Barrage had stolen an object from STAR Labs, and that he was actually trying to make good his escape when Supergirl had intercepted him - the rest I was intimately familiar with. My problem was that I was currently sitting with an orb-like object in my hands, wires and little sockets all over it, and it looked suspiciously like the object that had been shown on the news over the weekend. I'd finally gotten around to emptying my old bag entirely, so I could try and give it a wash. Imagine my surprise when a very unfamiliar but obviously expensive-looking piece of gadgetry fell out and onto my floor. Double my surprise when it started looking a little less unfamiliar, and all to similar to something that'd been shown on the news-channel several times.

I was sitting in my newly refurbished couch… well, now-blanket-covered couch staring at the gizmo. I was debating what I should do with it, or rather I was agonizing over the choice I'd already made. It wasn't like it had any value to me and it could easily be dangerous to keep. Besides, they might have some way of zeroing in on it eventually, and I'd rather it not be in my apartment if they did. So I had to return it. In a way that wouldn't ask questions. And how did I go about doing that exactly? I could just show up and hand it over at the nearest police station, but that meant records and my name connected to the object, and therefore potentially the attack itself. What if they then decided to do their due diligence and talk to campus security? Suffice it to say that it was a hypothetical I didn't really want answered. So I had to find another way. I couldn't just drop it in front of the station, could I? Cover my face, 'jump' in, leave it, and 'jump' up to the roofs again, and out of sight. I… actually could I decided. I didn't really see how anyone would notice, much less do anything about it – and I was actually doing them a favor too.

But if I was going out, and maybe even at street level, I wanted something to disguise myself with. Not a costume mind you, the idea was to not stand out in the dark. I went to my bedroom, carefully edging past the side of my bed, and over to my closets. I opened one of the drawers were I kept some of my stuff from home that I didn't use much anymore – bit warmer climate here, and a lot more heat from the ocean than further up north, up home. Hmm. While jeans wouldn't be particularly distinctive, they weren't exactly my first choice for potentially physical demanding work. Grey cargo pants though? Not really the fashionable choice, but much more comfortable to move in. And pockets ARE handy, besides the color would probably work better. I picked up a black hoodie from the floor on my way out of the room. It was probably clean. Well, it was probably at the stage where I didn't feel like it was dirty enough to warrant washing, but definitely wasn't clean enough to put back on a rack with the actually clean stuff. Fine balance that, but one every guy ends up picking up.

I walked to my kitchen, turning on the boiler for a quick cup of coffee. I wish I had one of those fancy grinds-beans-on-the-spot machines, but my priority was a working car and groceries, not slightly better coffee. While the water was boiling, I went into my spare room. There's a reason why I don't call it an 'office' or even 'guest room'. It was literally storage. It's where my bike was usually parked, where surplus furniture was stacked – extra chairs mostly, and where I had all of my various junk. There was also a card-board box filled with my winter gear, and some of the miscellaneous out-doors gear that everyone picks up over time. I got down on my knees, carefully not to bump my head on what was supposed to be a dinner table, while pulling out the box I was looking for from underneath the table. I had to contain a sneeze when a small plume of dust followed the motion. Probably should clean this room a bit more often, but out of sight, out of mind etc. I opened the box and started rummaging around. "Aha!" I exclaimed in triumph hoisting aloft a black tube-like piece of fabric. "Never gonna use that in Metropolis my ass" I mumbled with a note of satisfaction. I put the tube over my head and down around my neck, while I kept looking for the last part I needed. Now if only I could find it. I ended up having to root through another couple of boxes before I found what I was looking for. I grabbed everything and went to the kitchen, pouring the already boiling water into a cup and shoveled some instant-coffee on top.

I went back to my bedroom, standing in front of my full-sized mirror and frankly feeling a little silly. I'd unfolded the tube-like black fabric into a half-mask, something seen fairly often when skiing or during winters in general up north. Zero degrees is no fun with a frozen nose. With the addition of a pair of polarized snowboard goggles and the hoodie, I looked like one of those snowboarders aimed for looking 'cool' as opposed to actually being warm… or more likely, a discount ninja. Oh well, beggars can't be choosers, and I only needed to not be recognized. Besides, I figured looking stylish was a pretty low priority, when the idea was not to be noticed to begin with.

I walked into the kitchen, the fabric folded down, and the goggles hanging around my neck so I could actually drink my coffee. Instant-coffee might not taste fantastic compared to the real stuff, but the smell was still heaven to my nose. The slightly bitter taste running over my taste buds were probably more refreshing than the actual effect of caffine, but it was refreshing. I sipped the coffee slowly, walking around while drinking, moving things around on my desk under the pretense of organizing. I wasn't, I knew that. But I needed a little more time. I finished the cup, and left it in my sink, picking up a dishrag while I was there. Just a little more time. No problem. I got the weird techie orb, and started whipping it down. Wouldn't do to go through all of this and then hands them my prints. I mean, I had no idea whether or not that would even be of use to them, or interest for that matter. But I needed something to do.

I was still wiping down the orb fifteen minutes later, my hands shaking lightly, and my stomach not a fan… probably couldn't blame the coffee either. With a frustrated sigh, I got up and found a pair of gloves, picking up the orb and putting it in an empty backpack, still nestled in the dishrag I'd use to wipe it down with. I stood still, staring at nothing for a few minutes, before violently pulling up my hood and walking out of my apartment. It needed to be now.

 **Scene**

The pit in my stomach only kept growing while I was moving across the roofs of Metropolis towards the nearest police station. I felt… sloppy. There was no other way to describe it. My jumps got me where I needed, but I had a hard time not ending up several inches above where I wanted to go. It wasn't dangerous, but it was distracting and annoying. My nerves only started calming down when I was on the roof of a four-story structure opposite to the slate-grey of the police station. I was here, finally. Now I just needed to actually get it done. It would only take a couple of seconds, I reasoned; the first couple to get down there, and leave the orb literally on their doorstep, and another few to turn around and 'jump'. Easy peasy right?

"Come on! You can do this!" I really wasn't sure I could do this.

"Just a jump, a step and another jump, nothing can go wrong" Oh things could absolutely go wrong.

"… shit" Yeah, that sounded more realistic.

Right, so if false bravado couldn't pull me through this, then near-panic would have to do. I had another three or so false starts, before I was suddenly standing, complete with a hood, mask and goggles right in front of a police station. It wasn't until this point that my brain kicked in, informing me that maybe showing up masked in front of a police station wasn't the smartest move. I grabbed at my backpack, fumbling the straps while trying to get it open as fast as I could. I finally managed to get the dishrag-covered orb out, when I heard voices nearing from the front doors. I tried to untangle the orb, but it had gotten snagged in one of wires. Fuck it. I was done. I dropped the half-unpacked bundle, turned around, and with a heart beating a million miles a minute I 'pulled' myself to the roof across the street again, and kept going until I was several streets further down. I hurried behind the cover of the roof-access structure, leaning a hand on the rough stonework, and tried to get my breathing under control. I'd done it. Sure, I'd fumbled it a bit at the end, but I had delivered it, and made it away without anyone really seeing me. First success for the discount ninja! My elation was short lived though.

"Hey you! What are you doing up here? In Metropolis only bad guys skulk around on roofs!"

"Argh!" I said, the height of sophistication, before I was instinctively teleported to the roof the next building over. Shit! No! Goddamnit, it was going so well!

A light-reddish plume of smoke alighted a few yards in front of me, a young-looking redhead stepping out, already dramatically pointing at me "That won't work on me!"

"Who the hell are you?" This really wasn't how I imagined meeting my first super, or whatever the hell she was.

"I'm Misfit!" She proclaimed proudly and with a huge grin.

"A misfit? Sure, if you say so" Right, aside from the girly-teleport, she didn't seem particularly threatening. Besides, I could teleport as well, and at least I didn't leave a huge pink trail. I'd consider that a victory on my part.

"I AM Misfit. It's my codename! It's awesome!" the girl protested loudly

"Right" Hey I'm all for expressing yourself and all that, but this was ridiculous. "Have fun being awesome" I stated flatly, my pulse not at all running rampant. Fake it till you make, baby! I turned around and did a chain of teleports, trying for a pattern that would make it harder to track me.

Another pink plume of smoke kind of ruined that tactic, or at least showed me that it hadn't been particularly effective.

"Would you kindly go away? I've got places to go, and you're not invited" I said, aiming for dethatched annoyance.

"You're not going anywhere! I saw you put something down in front of the police station. Was it a bomb? Speak or you'll-"

"What?! It wasn't a damn bomb! I was just returning something!" I cut her off unceremoniously, not wanting her to continue that absurd train of thought.

Her eyes narrowed as she walked closer to me, a shaft of moonlight peeking out from the sky, briefly bathing her face in silver light. She wore a dark domino mask, but otherwise left her entire face uncovered, shoulder length red hair dancing in the breeze. She wore.. almost completely ordinary clothing. I mean, sure her t-shirt had some sort of black shape across her chest, but otherwise it really was just a t-shirt to go along with tights and an honest to goodness denim skirt. I almost laughed, with that get-up, she had to be a complete rookie. Hah! She was like me!

"E-eyes up here buddy!" Misfit said, with just a note of embarrassment and anger in her voice.

"Hah cute. Not really my type though" I said with a raised eyebrow, lying through my teeth, before teleporting to another roof. Oh god, my first meeting with a super just kept getting better and better. A rookie hero who acted like a self-conscious teen- wait, she might actually be a teen!

I was almost instantly followed by the reddish plume of smoke, and while I couldn't immediately see her for the small cloud of smoke, I could definitely hear her. "What's that supposed to mean! I mean, never mind! Not relevant Misfit!" She seemed to take a breath, a bit of steel entering her gaze and seemed to stand a little taller. "People don't teleport around on roofs in Metropolis to save on cab fair, and they definitely don't run around leaving objects in front of police stations. Give me a reason not to beat some justice out of you, punk!"

"Aside from the obvious that you can't actually catch m-" eyes narrowing, Misfit disappeared in a new plume of smoke, and all of a sudden I was standing several roofs away, breathing a little heavier. She tried to attack me? Well damn, she certainly was stepping things up. I barely managed to finish my thought before hearing a 'pop' and a rush of wind. Everything shifted again, with another pulling sensation. Damn these instinctive teleports took a lot more out of me than when I actually controlled them.

"Why won't you stand still! Face justice!" the redhead let out in a frustrated growl that frankly sounded more amusing than anything. Her willingness to do my bodily harm was much less amusing however. She leapt at me again, only repeating the pattern of the fight so far, and leaving my even more winded. I needed to get ahead of this before she actually got lucky somehow.

"Would you stop trying to hit me! I wasn't done talking" I said when she reappeared, giving her a completely ineffectual scowl given my mask and goggles "First off" I raised one finger, counting "you can't catch me. We can do this all night. Second of all" I counted with a second finger "You don't just run around punching people! Third" I counted, seeing her eyes narrowing once again "and this is where it gets complicated, so hold on to your hats ladies and gentlemen… I. Haven't. Done. Anything" I said in a slow and deliberate voice, as if speaking to a child.

"But no one who looks like that is EVER up to any good! I've seen enough of Gotham to know that much! And in case you're wondering, metas don't just drop of anonymous packages in front of police stations like that – it's super suspicious! I mean come on, you're even monologuing!" Ah, so she was used to Gotham, I suppose that cleared up why her habits were a bit more, uh, 'assaulty' than what I felt Metropolis warranted "… and I could totally catch you, y'know" I heard her whisper, probably not intending for me to hear, bringing a small smile to my lips.

I cleared my throat "Yes, well, my looks aside, we aren't in Gotham. Look, if I tell you why I dropped something off in front of the station, could you perhaps try not to wail on me for five minutes?" The exasperation was basically seeping off me at this point. Well actually it was most likely exhaustion, but I was hoping she saw exasperation. Also totally wasn't monologuing.

She seemed to mull my suggestion over, lifting one hand to her chin while absently shifting her weight back and forth between her feet before speaking up, oddly serious again "I'll hear you out, but this better be good"

I breathed out in relief, just wanting this to be over and hoping that near-truth would be enough. I walked over to a crate sitting forgotten on the roof and sat down on it, trying to appear less confrontational.

"Look, I'm new at this, much like you I'm guessing-"she started frowning, looking like she was about to speak up, I lifted a hand, stalling her.

"-and I didn't even really chose or want this. It happened to me. Regardless, I came across the thing you saw me leave, obviously valuable and just as obviously stolen, so I decided to turn it in-"I could tell Misfit wanted to break in again, her body squirming and her mouth opening and closing a few times, but I needed to finish before she started something up again.

"- but I didn't want to be connected to anything regarding the orb – the object I dropped off, so with my powers I thought this would be an easy fix" It actually was, until she decided to jump me. I tried to look relaxed and non-aggressive, but I was tracking her every twitch and move, ready to 'jump' at a moment's notice.

The redhead finally stopped pacing, her body language becoming more relaxed, before sighing groaning loudly "Ughhh! Why can't this job ever be simple! Y'know, pow! pow! pow! bad guy down, day saved! Justice served!" she exclaimed, mimicking punching and kicking imaginary bad guys.

I looked at her antics, shaking my head slowly "If justice was that simple, then Gotham would probably be less of a mess at this point. Anyway I realize it looked shady, but I didn't do anything illegal" Right now I just wanted to get back home and forget about this entire debacle "Can we call this a night? No more chasing and punching?"

She was caught by my comment mid-kick, slowly lowering her leg again. "I suppose you might be telling the truth. But you really should get a less suspicious costume. Anyone would assume that you're a thief or something looking like that, and I mean, not even a good one at that." The last part was whispered, but still impossible to miss.

I face-palmed, inadvertently pressing the rigid plastic structure of my skiing goggles into the sensitive skin around my eyes and forehead. I contained grunt of pain, and stood up. "I'm not getting a costume. In fact, I'd be surprised if we ever meet again."

The young woman stopped moving entirely, just staring at me with an incredulous look. "What? Hah! Hahaha! You actually really believe that, don't you?" she started basically vibrating on the spot from her laughter "Oh sweetie, and I'm usually the one they call a little naïve"

My irritation starting spiking at her mocking tone "What's supposed to be so damn funny? I didn't choose this. All I am… I'm collateral damage. I have no interest in this-" I motioned with a hand at her costume "-life of yours"

Misfit folded her arms across her chest and stepped closer, and eyebrow raised and a smirk on her lips "Well Mr. Collateral Damage, what's funny is that you have no clue. You won't be able to leave this alone. You'll use your powers – you won't be able to stop. I should know. You don't just give up the freedom of teleportation! Imagine what you could do with it! With powers like ours, you can save people in the blink of an eye, catch villains completely unprepared. You can see sights almost no one has seen, and you won't even break a sweat doing it! You could have breakfast in Europe, lunch in the US and dinner in Asia? You'd give all of that up just because you didn't chose having your powers? Puh-lease Blondie"

She certainly was making a lot of assumptions about my abilities. A lot of wrong assumptions that I frankly wasn't going to dissuade her of - the stronger she imagined I was, hopefully the less she'd want to go after me. She did have a point though, little though I wanted to admit it. Teleporting like this, only if it was only for these few days, had been exhilarating like little else I'd ever tried, and I had only just started exploring my powers. But there was a difference between essentially joy-riding and using them for more. I could keep those aspects separate… wait what. Blondie? My hands rushed to my scalp, actually touching hair and not hood. Shit! It must have fallen down teleporting all over the place. I narrowed my eyes at her and pulled up my hood so fast I almost dislodged my glasses.

"You saw nothing!"

"Nope! Definitely no blondes around here! No sir, just little ol' me"

"You really are a pain…"

"So I've been told" She said puffing out her chest and smirking even wider than before. The change in posture did, interesting things to her… uh, shirt. Yeah! definitely just her shirt.

Before digging myself any deeper, I decided now was the time to bail. "So, with all of this-" I pointed between her and me "- over with, I'll take my leave. Can I assume you won't follow me this time?"

"Haha sure, you can assume blondie" she said leaning forwards, hands on her hips and gave me a wink. Oookay. Well at least I seemed to have been firmly shoved into the 'non-villain' category. Focus on the victories Will.

I cleared my throat, stepping towards to edge of the roof, trying not to give away that I was looking for the furthest possible roof I could 'jump' to. I couldn't resist a stab at her behavior though "Well, you better get to bed soon, gotta be well rested for high school, right?" I managed to hear the start of an indignant squawk before I was gone, not looking back until I was only a few more 'jumps' from my apartment. Fortunately, there seemed to be no indication that she'd followed me this time.

I didn't really start relaxing until I stepped into my living room and threw my impromptu disguise on the coffee table by the couch. I was home. I was safe. "Success" I breathed out, letting gravity guide me down to the couch. The entire trip, despite not having been more than around thirty minutes, hit me like a ton of bricks. I needed sleep and I needed food. Maybe even in that order.


	3. Chapter 3 - Back In Business

**AN:**

 **Yo.**

 **So, third chapter. Next chapter might take another two weeks or so, mostly so I didn't publish everything too fast, and then have to stress about deadlines and all that. If anyone has any questions, then by all means ask away. Enjoy.**

 **Chapter 3 – Back in business**

I finally had my car back, which was great, as it allowed me to not rely on teleportation for transport. Being stuck in traffic however? Decidedly less great. I honestly hadn't missed paying for gas either, but this was for the best, right? Right. Fortunately the extra shifts I'd done had paid off in spades, meaning I still had a little spending money left after bills and the car repair. So I decided to spoil myself, with some honest to goodness physical books.

That's when it hit me that I'd never actually picked the free book Mr. Sanders promised. Of course, that was all about a minor and completely natural lapse of concentration. It had nothing to do with a pretty face and long blonde hair. Nu-uh… well, whatever the cause, hopefully Mr. Sanders wouldn't mind me picking it up now instead. Besides, I'd buy a coffee if the little bar on the first floor was actually manned today - wouldn't do to look cheap.

Now you'd assume that parking would be hard in a big city, yeah? Well, this is where the city of tomorrow part comes in. This city was designed to be the model city. No ugly parking garages ruining the view or replacing parks and such, nope! Instead Metropolis' parking situation had expanded downwards, so not only was parking fairly easy to find, it was also pretty damn cheap. It also helped that the underground parking garages could (and did) double as make-shift shelters during particularly nasty superpowered fights.

I got out of the parking garage a couple hundred feet from my target bookstore, this entrance of the parking garage technically serving park-goers, but worked out great for me and other customers in the area. The short walk was incredibly familiar, reminding me of the dozens of times I'd been to the store since I moved to Metropolis. I could hear parents, couples and children from the park, kind of a distant but constant buzz that that accompanied the ever-present smells of grass and trees. Well, as ever-present as seasons could allow for. It was soothing. Not a bad attribute for a short walk to a bookstore of all places.

I opened the heavy wooden door, making sure to close it tight behind me, as the age-warped wood of the door would sometimes get stuck on the frame. I barely registered the old-fashioned bell ringing above me, walking directly towards the sales counter. I had to scoot around a few customers browsing through the exhibitions and bookshelves to get there, and was met with a small line being served Mr. Sanders himself. I caught his eye and gave polite smile and wave which he returned. I'd give a proper hello when the line started thinning out, but I might as well start looking around while Mr. Sanders was busy.

I decided on navigating to the stores 'used' section. Not because I couldn't particularly afford newly printed books, but I liked being frugal when I could. Most importantly though, Mr. Sanders had a discerning eye, and often purchased collections of books from closing libraries and such, but also from people simply inheriting a ton of books and not knowing what to do with them. Books like that usually ended up in one of three places: stores like this, flea markets, or more often, the dump. Now I'm not some naïve enough to think that every printed book is gold, and the older the better, but I did like the feel of a book in my hands. The coolest part however, was that sometimes you'd find some truly interesting works hidden away here. I already had a small pile of old books on my shelf at home, some of them more than a hundred years old and containing everything from old maps to classic works in their original format. And some just had really neat covers.

The selection wasn't fantastic today, so I was just absentmindedly leafing through a cookbook from the thirties. Okay, so not everything here was a treasure. I heard the squeak of wooden floorboards and footsteps and I raised my head towards the source. I saw Mr. Sanders turning a corner, his eyes scanning from side to side, as if looking for someone.

"Ah, there you are. William. May I have a moment of your time?"

"It's Wilhelm actually, but I really prefer Will, sir"

"Oh! of course, of course! My apologies. I suppose Wilhelm is a tad old-fashioned these days. Would you mind following me to the counter? I'd rather not leave the register unattended for too long, not with the amount of customers still here."

"Of course Mr. Sanders, and don't worry about it, happens all the time"

Mr. Sanders smiled gratefully at me and started towards the counter, motioning me to follow. When we got to the register, there was fortunately only a single person in line, and Mr. Sanders quickly handled the purchase with his customary attentiveness, evening managing a comment or two about the books purchased. When the customer left, he leaned towards my direction, his eyebrows lifting a little expectantly.

"You forgot something last time"

My eyes widened. I did? "I did?" Crap, did I leave one of the boxes or something? "I'm sorry sir, I didn't realize there were more than the three boxes"

Mr. Sanders snorted, not a noise I'd ever heard from him before, before seeming a little annoyed at the outburst. Hah, snorting was below his dignity it seemed.

"No Will, you forgot your payment. The book, you never chose one."

"Oh! Yeah, I forgot last time, but I was hoping I'd get the chance to look around for one today"

"You already earned the book, so I certainly won't stop you. But I do have another proposition now that you're here. Feel like earning another book or two?" Well color me intrigued.

"Oh? Are you sure a part-timer isn't what you need" I laughed

Mr. Sanders made a slight grimace at my comment "I would, but unfortunately I can't see how anyone would want the kind of part-time I could offer. Very limited hours and the schedule would be fairly inconsistent. He shrugged after finishing, like it was an old argument, one he'd made more than once.

I looked at the elderly man a little askance. Sure, a lot of people preferred doing fifteen to twenty hours per week for part time, but there were also a lot of people who preferred doing less, but most postings didn't go below fifteen. Hell, if not for my car expenditures lately, I'd have been just fine with ten hours a week. Especially at a place like this if it had an employee discount.

"Sir, I think you're underestimating the market. For those of us who can't find a relevant internship, twenty hour a week part-time jobs in malls or grocery stores are the only thing available."

Mr. Sanders looked off into the distance, eye narrowing slightly and brow creasing, while the fingers of his left hand were tapping a rhythm on the counter, until with a nod to himself, he focused on me again.

"Maybe you're right. I might just try after all. However-"he said, his face softening and cracked a smile "- that was hardly why I needed to have a word young man. You see, I've got a shipment of graphic novels and comic books in storage-" Mr. Sanders pointed a thumb behind him, motioning to the private back rooms "- and I figured I'd offer you the chance to help out getting a few stacks to the second floor. It's not quite as heavy as last time, but you'll probably have a few more trips up the stairs regardless. I'll of course compensate you with a couple of books of your choosing. What do you say?"

I couldn't really object to the offer. I'd save the money, but still get my books. Besides, while a little formal at times, I liked the old man. "Sure, I'd be up for that. You just need me to put the stuff by the comic tables?"

"That would be more than fine. When you enter the private section, the comics and novels should already be on a rolling table on your right. Watch the door saddle when you roll the table out"

I gave him a blank look at 'door saddle'

"The door sill, or threshold if you will" he answered, understanding the unspoken question.

"Oh. Right. Door saddle" I said a little skeptical. "Well, I'll get to it then"

I saw older man raise an amused eyebrow before I started walking to the private area. Who the hell uses the term 'door saddle'?

He was right though; the threshold was a bit of working getting over. I also ended up having to walk the stairs a good dozen times or so before the table was empty. If only the comic books were more rigid, I probably could've done it with only half as many trips, but I'd rather not have them glide out and fall down the stairs. Customers were fortunately dwindling at this point, so I had to dodge and wait for less people, but most importantly, it left fewer witnesses for my too-heavy breathing and by now shiny forehead. I know being a guy entails sweating more than the fairer sex, but being a good deal taller than average didn't do me any favors. Right then and there, I kinda wanted to just 'jump' to the top of the stairs with as much as I could carry. It would definitely cut down on the steps and time. It kind of made me wonder how much I could carry when 'jumping'.

I rolled the table back into the storage area, exchanging a nod with Mr. Sanders on the way. And I stayed there - just long enough to run a hand through my hair, wipe the sweat off my forehead and get my breathing back to normal.

I walked to Mr. Sanders by the counter. By this point, most of the customers were gone. I'd probably arrived at the store during the tail-end of the busy period right after people getting off work and starting on dinner. I didn't really keep a constant food schedule, preferring to eat when I was hungry instead, so it suited me just fine. In fact, that's partly the reason why I showed up fairly late in the day.

"I'm done. Everything should be upstairs, and the table is back by storage"

The older man turned towards me from the screen he'd been looking at. "That's marvelous Will. It would have taken me far longer, so truly, thank you for your help"

It probably would, but the praise still felt a little awkward. I mean, essentially he'd paid me to do it. "You don't need to thank me Mr. Sanders, besides I'm leaving with a couple of books for my troubles" I said with a toothy smile.

"While I suppose that is true, what's easy for some isn't always for others, so I owe you my thanks regardless. That and three books" he finished with a little smile.

"I'll chance an observation before you run off to the bookshelves. Normally I wouldn't involve myself in the personal lives of my customers, but as you hardly fit that particular mold right now, I thought I'd make an exception" A glint entered his eyes, before he continued "You remember the young blonde with the glasses you helped last time you were here?" I nodded, not quite knowing where he was going with this "Well, I won't reveal too much, but suffice it to say that she has stopped by multiple times since then. She seems to be looking for something, and ah, she seems to have trouble finding it" There was self-satisfied smirk on his lips by the time he finished. Oh real funny old man.

"Oh? How curious" Fine, I decided, I'll play along "When does she usually come around looking for whatever it is she can't seem to find?"

Mr. Sanders smile smirk turned into a full on smile, delight dancing behind his eyes as he answered "Oh, right about now" A few seconds was all it took for the bell above the entrance to start ringing.

I turned towards the door, my head moving faster than intended, and saw a cute blonde enter, briefly brushing off her shoes on the doormat, an expression of deep concentration on her face.

I turned my head back towards Mr. Sanders, disbelief and betrayal writ large on my face. And here I thought he was a nice old codger! He quickly turned around, hiding a laugh behind a fake cough, and left me by the counter, ostensibly to tidy up one of the exhibition stands.

I heard footsteps approaching from behind me come to a hesitant stop before continuing with more purpose. I'm honestly not sure why I didn't just turn around and say hi. I mean I've only met her once, and we hardly talked for more than a few minutes. Sure, I'm not exactly Casanova here, but usually it wasn't a proble-

"Uhm, hi" a soft voice said to my back, uncertainty noticeable even to my ears. My shoulders tensed when I heard her, surprised for god knows what reason that she'd actually done the normal and mature thing and say hi. Great buddy, just great. Real big man there. In my defense though, Mr. Sanders had totally set me up. I'd probably have reacted with a bit more poise under normal circumstances – I mean, I could hardly do worse.

I turned around, trying my best and failing at a surprised expression. For all I knew, I looked constipated. "Ah! Linda, hi!" I am a fucking wordsmith of the highest caliber.

The blonde looked a little dejected "Are you okay Will? If you're busy that's fine-"

"-No! I mean no, I'm good. I'm just a little distracted – had to help out Mr. Sanders again. I didn't expect to see you again" my comment causing her raise an eyebrow before I quickly amending "I mean, I didn't expect to see you this soon".

Linda looked at me, as if searching my face for something. She seemed a little on guard, but seeing as I'd just botched our little greeting, that was probably on me. "Okay. Well that's good. I didn't think you worked here though?"

Thank you for the safe subject Linda, truly. A tried for a cautious smile while answering her "I still don't, seems like someone forgot to tell Mr. Sanders though. No, in all seriousness, I don't mind helping out, and he's throwing a couple of books my way, so I can't really complain."

I got a cautious smile and what might have been a near-silent laugh for my efforts. World, fear my razor wit. "Oh I see. That sounds like a pretty good deal though. But if he needs help this often, why doesn't he hire another part-timer?"

I shrugged, knowing exactly what she meant "I actually asked him the same question. Apparently he doesn't think he can offer enough hours for it to be an attractive enough position"

"I'd think he could get someone easy. Even if it's light on hours, an employee discount could be worth gold for university students. Books are expensive!" She sounded like the latter part was a personal affront. I think most students spending hundreds if not thousands of dollars per semester for books felt the exact same way – I know I did.

"I'm totally with you, I'd save hundreds of dollars on a book discount alone. And then there's this place itself" I said spreading my arms, motioning to the rich wood and the shelves bursting with books all around us.

I got a more honest smile for my enthusiasm "I know what you mean. It's… comfortable here, without trying too hard. Even the smell is nice-" she took a deep breath through her nose, and laughed at little "-books and coffee, two of my favorite things"

That reminded me, I'd never actually gotten the cup of coffee that I had promised myself. Huh, well I might as well use the opportunity. "You know, I never actually got my cup of coffee. You wanna join me for a cup?"

She smiled the smile, you know, the really infectious kind and lowered her head trying to hide it, which caused some of her loose hair to shake free from behind her shoulders and cover most of her face "Are you offering?"

I smirked at her reaction, and maybe, just maybe at her smile. "Sure, on me. You know, I'm flush now that I don't have to pay for my next three books"

"Is the coffee bar even open at this time?" Fuck. It probably wasn't. Usually the part-time barista (see teenager) left with the dinner crowd. But, I didn't actually know.

"Hmm, maybe. One sec." I turned towards where I'd last seen Mr. Sanders, and sure enough, he was still close by.

"Mr. Sanders, has the coffee bar closed yet?"

"I'm afraid it is, our barista left-" he looked down at his watch "- thirty minutes ago, so unless either of you knows how to make that mechanical monstrosity upstairs spit out coffee, you're out of luck" He sounded genuinely regretful at that.

"Actually, I do, but I don't want to impose" I looked at Linda, she did? I sure didn't.

Mr. Sanders looked a little surprised as well, but recovered almost instantly with a polite smile "If you're sure and Will is with you, then I don't see the harm young lady" he walked to the counter and opened the register drawer, pulling out a small batch of keys and detaching one connected to a cup-shaped keychain. He looked at the key and seemed about to add something, then simply smiled at some internal joke and pushed the key across the counter.

I grabbed the key, giving Mr. Sanders a questioning look that he dismissed with a shake of his head. Fine, I'd let the old man have his fun.

"Well, let's see if we can get the machine started"

We walked up the stairs to the coffee bar, noting that aside from a couple of teenagers reading comic books in a corner, it was empty. Well, despite having the coffee bar, this floor was geared more towards the YA crowd, so it made sense that there'd be few people around right now. I stepped up to the coffee bar with Linda in tow "You sure you know how to work this thing?"

Her laugh indicated I'd tried to be funny, which I really hadn't "I'll be just fine Will. I worked as a barista for a couple of years when I first got here"

Ah, so that was why. She was probably more qualified than the pimply teen Mr. Sanders usually had manning the station. "Ah fair enough. I'll take your word for it" I handed her the key, making a 'you first' motion towards the huge coffee machine. "So you've only been in Metropolis for a few years?"

"Metropolis…" she seemed to hesitate, then turned her head towards me "Yeah. Basically. I moved here from Smallville to stay with my aunt"

Smallville? That was like real rural US. I mean, I'm from the Midwest, and not a particularly large city either, but even my hometown wasn't considered rural, and Smallville is deep rural. Farming communities and very little else as far as I knew. Hell, maybe that's why she dressed so conservatively? Oh please don't let her be one of those born again Christians.

"Fair enough. Must be a pretty big change going from Smallville to Metropolis. I mean Smallville is even smaller than were I'm from, and to me, Metropolis felt like a huge change."

The blonde started unlocking the screen that hid the fancy coffee maker and pressed a few buttons when the screen was pulled up. A couple of beeps sounded and a deep vibrating sound came from the machine. Linda didn't seem to be bothered by the sound, so I assume it was meant to make that noise. Hopefully.

She turned fully towards me "There. It just needs to warm up for a second, and then we're good to go. But yeah, moving here has definitely been a learning experience. One I'm not exactly done with" she said with a small frown.

Oh? I bet there's a story there. "Fantastic. Told you coffee was on me" I said with a wink "And I know what you mean. Things are different here. I'm used to a super per decade, and now they've wrecked my car twice in as many years" I snorted.

Her eyes widening noticeably at my comment. Yeah, two cars in two years is a bit on the unlucky side, but conversely, the lack of supers in my hometown meant no super related accidents for the previous twenty years. "Yeah, I know right? Lucky me. What's your experience here been like?"

"It's been… trial and error. There's some truly fantastic people here, but…-"

"-There are also some pretty terrible ones." I finished.

She frowned a little, as if not quite agreeing with my assessment "I'd say complicated, perhaps. But I don't think they're necessarily bad." She hesitated for little while before asking with a troubled expression on her face "Have you really had that much trouble here with the 'supers'?"

The deep vibrating sound from the coffee machine stopped,, some water was rinsing out into a tray. The young blonde turned back towards the machine, emptying the train into the small sink installed on the wall. "Aaaand done. Te coffee maker is ready. What kind of coffee do you prefer?"

"As long as it isn't served in an espresso cup or something, I'm good" I smiled absently, barely noting the sound of the machine starting, and the smell of fresh-ground coffee beans starting to permeate the air. I was more focused on mulling over her previous question. I had decided on laying low with regards to me being at MetU when the attack happened, but that was mostly in regards to the exact details, and me braining Barrage. I suppose it didn't matter if Linda knew that I'd been there on the day of the attack, as long as I kept to the story that I'd told campus security. "Well, I suppose right when I came here, it was mostly just jarring seeing the results of their activities. Hadn't experienced any of it at home, and all of a sudden there were wrecked cars and buildings popping up here and there. But I've had enough personal experience by now, to form a more… comprehensive opinion. The two cars I told you about? Well, the first didn't have evidence as to who specifically did it, but both my garage and insurance company agreed that it was super related. My second and by a miracle of god still functioning car, get wrecked by none other than Barrage – you know, the dude they just picked up at the MetU attack?-" Linda nodded, looking both surprised and an emotion I couldn't quite place

"-and last but not least, I was there the night of the MetU attack. I was actually in the student lounge when it got blasted by Barrage. I managed to high-tail it out of there with nothing but a bruise or two, but I could have been killed. Hell, I almost was. So yeah, I suppose I've got a little resentment bouncing around somewhere." I finished with a tired snort.

"That's… you seem exceptionally unlucky Will. I'm sorry you were put through all of that." She looked a little weary and uncertain, especially in the face of my last revelation. "I'm not excusing the actions of anyone involved, least of all criminals like Barrage, but I don't think the heroes, the supers I mean, ever intend for things to spin out of control like that, you know? Maybe some just need more practice and experience, and maybe some lose themselves in the heat of the moment. I'm sorry. I know that for you that must seem like poor comfort."

I waved her off, I was pretty used to the excuses people made for heroes and even villains, and some of them even made a certain amount of sense. I even knew that I had managed to build up a personal bias, but I still felt that those excuses were a little weak and callous when the results were ruined livelihoods and even in some cases like the MetU, the actual lives of people. Regardless, there's such a thing as being too honest, and she was making an effort on her side, despite obviously have a more positive view on supers, or heroes, as she saw them.

"Look, I'm not saying they shouldn't be here and help, or that they don't make a positive contribution overall, but from my outer Metropolis, we're a bit more familiar with the fallout. Too familiar." I cleared my voice, trying to get away from that particular subject and onto more safe ground, "So, is coffee almost ready?"

Her eyes widened, obviously noting that the coffee machine had stopped making as well as the strong aroma of coffee. "Oh! of course!" the cute blonde got a slight dusting of pink on her cheeks, and bustled over to the coffee maker, transferring both large cups from the tray to the counter, I picked up both cups from the counter and walked them over to the little café tables by the huge window overlooking the park.

Linda followed over, after shutting off the machine, and locking the screen around it again. I took a seat and was quickly joined by the blonde. I'd like the say that we sat in companionable silence, but it was too forced for that, no doubt a result of our last conversation.

Mid-sip of the coffee, a latte macchiato I think, Linda spoke up

"Will?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think the supers ever think about the consequences of what they do? Like, agonize over accidental deaths and damages?

It wasn't a bad question. Pop-culture in recent years tended to put supers, the so-called heroes at least, on pedestals, making them see far less human than they probably were. No alien pun intended. I'm fairly certain that there were fan-groups out there, and I knew for a fact that you could buy toys resembling some of the most famous heroes like Superman and the Flash.

I let out a small bitter laugh "I sure hope they do. If they don't then there isn't really much hope of it getting better. It's not like anyone can actually force a Kryptonian to do something they don't want to."

"What would you do different, if you were a Kryptonian like Superman, or someone like the Flash?" she pressed. Jeez, she was intent on keeping this particular conversation going.

I shrugged "The specifics are a little hard, never having had powers like that. Besides, does anyone even really know what a Kryptonian can do?"

She narrowed her eyes, and _almost_ did something with her mouth resembling a pout "Be serious Will. With that amount of power, how would you do things different?" Okay, this was starting to get a little more serious than what I wanted, but you know what? Fuck it, not like I hadn't had this kind of hypothetical conversation with David before.

"Fine." I said with a little heat entering my voice "With that amount of power, I'd probably focus on finishing fights as fast as I could; if a crook or villain or whatever, has to suffer a few broken bones, then so be it. Their choice to do illegal shit, they can bear the consequences, not Average Jane and Joe.-"she was about to open her mouth, her brows lowered, but I continued "and if the bad guy was too strong for a quick beating like that, then I'd focus on getting them out of Metropolis as fast as I could, and not just the shiny center of Metropolis. I mean, super strength, speed and flying? I can't imagine why fights keep happening inside city limits.

She seemed annoyed at that, maybe for not letting her speak, or maybe for my opinion in general, but with a heavy sigh, she deflated. "You make it sound so easy. I think they try, and that the reality just isn't so neat and tidy. I don't think there's often a 'quick-fix'. And I'm not sure I agree that they have the right to hurt someone that badly if it isn't in self-defense".

I studied her, she'd gone from annoyed and a little combative to almost resigned. Sure, I had a bit of a personal stake in the conversation, but I wouldn't have imagined that she did. I was obviously wrong. I'm not sure what relationship she has to super's particular brand of justice, but I could at least recognize that she'd done some thinking on it. Her opinions didn't seem like the knee-jerk reaction type, but rather something deeper. She might even have been saved by one at some point.

"I don't think we're going to agree entirely on the subject, but you're right that neither of us really know what goes through someone's head in that kind of situation. Besides, as I said, it's really more hypothetical, no one really knows what people like that are physically capable of."

She perked up a little at that and took a gulp of her coffee. No dainty sips for her "No I suppose we don't. I shouldn't have pushed you on an answer, it was hardly the safest conversation choice. I am sorry about what happened to your cars, and that you were almost caught in the crossfire at the MetU though".

She seemed to mean it, but I was hardly going to hold her responsible for something she had nothing to do with. My beef was primarily with Barrage, if anyone. "Don't sweat it. One of my classmates, a friend really, is much worse - I'm fairly certain he even has posters"

She seemed visibly upset with that, which in turn caused me to laugh

"I know it's a little weird, but if he believes in what they stand for, and they happen to be attractive, then I say live and let live" Maybe she was a bit of a prude I thought with a mental chuckle.

"You think they're attractive?" she said looking startled

Whoops, maybe a little too taboo speaking about attractive supers when in another girls company. Thin ice Will, mighty thin ice. "Erhm, I mean. Supergirl, Wonderwoman and you know… those. They're physically appealing" Okay you can do better! "-in an entirely respectful way" No, no I obviously couldn't do any better.

She raised a delicate eyebrow, taking another sip and putting down her cup of coffee. She looked down at herself, a strained expression on her face "It's the costumes, isn't it?

Balls. Absolute balls. I tried schooling my face, not letting anything slip, and said in a very careful and controlled voice "I suppose that's the case for some people, but it's probably also that they look very healthy and wholesome?" I finished lamely. Okay, this was just straight unfair. I wasn't making any comparisons, she was! And it's not like I imagined myself some supermodel or whatever. I quickly started sipping the coffee, hoping the action of filling my mouth meant she didn't expect me to elaborate on anything.

"I'm sorry. That was mean of me. You're not the one with posters on your walls" Damn straight I wasn't! "You're probably not into tight spandex and toned bodies" Well I wouldn't go that far, I just found the posters a little tasteless, and my personal experience meant I wasn't liable to start worshipping them for their principles anytime soon. "I suppose, it's a good thing I don't wear tights and miniskirts then, you'd probably think I looked terrible" she ended with a mischievous smirk.

I looked at her, narrowing my eyes which only increased her smirk. Well she'd certainly changed the subject pretty damn efficiently. "This is entrapment! I'm pleading the fifth" I said, crossing my arms with a mock-upset expression on my face.

Something broke, and I got an honest to goodness belly laugh for my troubles, something so utterly unrestrained that I couldn't help but notice how dramatically it clashed with her conservative look. Huh, can't judge a book by its cover – especially not in a bookstore. Damn my pun game is strong! I picked up my own cup, taking a sip so she wouldn't see my own goofy smile.

"I think you look just fine" I mumbled behind my cup.

Her laughter died down until with a slight blush it settled on an amused smile, one that turned downright predatory quickly after "Oh? Poor 'just fine' me then"

I stared flatly at her. She'd had her fun and successfully changed our topic of conversation to something more light-hearted, but I wasn't going to keep fighting a losing battle. "I'm not dumb enough to answer that" I snorted.

"Maybe there's hope for you yet"

I made a zipper motion over my lips, gave her a smile and leaned back in my chair with a slight creak. Get ammunition from that blondie!

She merely smiled at me and started sipping her coffee while looking at the park. The silence wasn't awkward or forced this time. I suppose that's progress.

It was getting late, and the store would be closing soon, so I decided to break the companionable silence "Well, we should probably get going. While the coffee was fantastic, I do need some dinner"

I heard a sigh, turned my head to see her looking at her empty cup, then back at me, a wistful smile on her lips "Yeah, I suppose you're right. I've probably been here for too long as it is, I've got an ever growing pile of texts to read for class"

"Yeah, that too" I smiled back. Blatant lie, I skim most of my stuff, and only actually read the stuff that's palatable. I don't doubt that history majors have pretty terrible texts sometimes, but god knows political sciences has its own fair share of centuries old texts… some of them even in their original form.

I picked up both of our cups and gave them a quick rinse in the sink, before leaving them there. I walked a couple of steps before the guilt got to me, and I walked back to the counter, putting some loose change and a buck in the tip jar. There, bad conscience remedied.

Linda walked over the stairs, seemingly waiting for me. I could see her hands fidgeting and there was a focused expression on her face. Curious. I walked over from the coffee bar, the creaking of the wood under my feet making her turn around. She started to take a step forward but stopped herself, and waited for me to come over. I was about to motion for her to go down first when I felt her arms around me, and her head against my chest, a softly sweet smelling scent reaching my nose. Oh. She was hugging me. I tried bending my knees a little, so she was less at arm-pit height, and more at neck height. Ah, the joys of figuring out how to hug short people. I gave her something that was supposed to be a stroking motion on her back, though my surprise caused it to turn into a patting motion instead. Good god, she wasn't a dog Will!

She broke of the hug before it got to the awkward stage, well for her, I didn't quite mind getting hugs by cute, albeit oddly solid girls. Damn, judging from her back, she must be packing some muscle under all that loose clothing.

"Thank you for the coffee Will, it was nice"

"Ah, erh. Sure, of course. I mean, you ended up actually making the coffee, so I hardly-"

"Oh just say 'you're welcome' Will!" she exclaimed with a hint of exasperation

I hesitated a little, but I mean, sure, I guess? "You're welcome?"

She smiled at me and rolled her eyes "Keep it up, and I might give you my number next time. Get home safe Will" with that she started down the stairs, not waiting for a response.

"Next ti- bye?" I said to absolutely no one at this point. Ugh. Whatever.

I walked down the stairs, finding Mr. Sanders with a book in his hand, sitting behind the counter. Seemed like he was already done with the day. As far as I could see, I was probably the last customer as well – unless someone was hiding on the third floor.

The old man looked up as I approached, and put his book down. "That was certainly a long coffee young man" amusement clear in his voice.

I looked at the old man, my eyes narrowing a little "Oh don't pretend this wasn't exactly what you planned. You set me up!"

He shrugged, clearly dismissing what I said "I merely informed you that she'd been here, and that she seemed to be looking for something. The rest is squarely on your shoulders. Besides, she seemed to be smiling when she left, so are you really in a position to complain?"

Okay so he was right. Annoying, but right. "… Fine. Look, with the shop closing in a few, I'll have to come back for the books sometime next week, that okay?"

He merely had a serene smile on his lips "Of course Will. They're your books. But-" He stopped, holding up a hand "- before you leave, I wondered if I could perhaps get your number? I've thought about the part time position, and If I do decide to capitalize on your suggestions, then perhaps a call will come your way. Unless of course, you're not amenable to that."

Of course I was. The less said about my current job, the better. "That… I'd like that. Thank you sir. Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?"

It really would be a nice job. I already knew most of the shop by heart, and moving books here and there wouldn't really be an issue. Hell, it was a guarantee that a job like that would save me time and money, and there was the little bonus of running into Linda more often. I took the proffered notepad and pen, and quickly scribbled down my phone number and my name on top. Hopefully he'd even be able to read it. The digital age really hasn't done my handwriting any favors.

With a growl of my stomach, I gave Mr. Sanders the key to the coffee machine back, and decided to excuse myself. Seems like I was getting a late dinner. Oh well, definitely worth it, stopping by the store today. When I left, there might have been a small spring in my step.

 **Scene**

After my little run in with the resident Gothamite Misfit, I decided I needed to up my training and try to figure out the limits to my powers. Regardless of what I wanted, it was becoming apparent that the supers of my world weren't going to leave me alone, and the next time, it might not be a fairly harmless young woman with a 'justice'-fixation that I came across. Moreover, there was something pretty liberating about making a thirty minute car trip in less than five minutes of jumping 'jumping', and I couldn't hide the small almost instinctive 'pulling' sensation whenever I looked at a roof.

I also knew that I had some issues to try to fix. It didn't matter that I could instantly teleport, if it only worked during the day, and my teleportation physically exhausting me, also indicated that I needed to make an effort in that direction. Aside from my little hoodie mishap, my meeting with Misfit also proved the value of a disguise. Sure, she knew that I was tall and blonde, but that description was so vague as to be completely useless. Conversely, I knew her hair color, height, eye-color and erhm, with her costume I had a pretty detailed physical description as well. Hell, I even knew that she had freckles. From how she spoke and reacted, I could probably also guess at a general age and hit comfortably close to the mark.

I had a lecture-free day, and I felt the need to make some headway with my powers. That's why I was currently on the roof of a recently condemned building. Externally it wasn't too dissimilar from my own apartment complex, all dark reds and black smudges, though the interior of this one seemed to have been geared towards smaller commercial interests. It was basically several stories of gutted offices and waiting rooms in a ring around a huge hole going from the top of the building to the now empty basement. Looking from the roof and into the building, it honestly looked like meteor had crashed into the roof of the building and punched through to the basement.

If I remember my news correctly, this was the result of an actual alien trying to go toe-to-toe with the Justice League. Or rather, this was where said alien landed after a particularly nasty uppercut from one of the supers. It was also were it ended, when the alien, apparently having had enough, decided to bail via unknown means Well, unknown to the public at any rate. Either way, it caused enough damage for the building to be condemned, meaning it was perfect for me. I had a special exercise in mind, and the hole was the perfect testing ground.

I teleported in a zigzag pattern down to the ground floor, standing just beside the hole in the floor to the basement and dropped a one of those handy camping glow-sticks into the gloom. Along with the pillar of light from the roof, it was enough light for me to teleport by, and deep enough that it'd hurt to fall down, but not so deep that it'd be too dangerous. With a little luck I'd be fine.

I took a step forwards and plunged in the dark gap ripped through the floor, only using my ability shortly before reaching the ground… and felt nothing. I looked up, but the hole to the ground floor was further down the room from me, meaning I had managed to teleport mid-air, but none of the downwards motion of my 'fall' had registered. That was actually pretty damn useful. If this kept being true for any height, and I honestly had no reason not to assume just that, then fall of a building wouldn't be lethal as long as I could swing a teleport before actually hitting the surface. It was an answer to a very legitimate fear I'd had running around on the roofs for the past couple of days. What if I slipped? What if I somehow messed up a 'port? Well, now that didn't seem to be much of a problem anymore, which also meant I could up the pace of my little teleporting training regimen.

I'd still yet to find a way around someone simply turning off the lights, or me being approached in an area with little to no light. Fortunately Metropolis was pretty good about street lights, and a city of that size never really sleeps, but Metropolis was only one city, and most cities were either worse off, or far, far smaller.

It was 'jumping' around the deserted floors of offices that I came across a room that seemed even worse off than the rest of the building. While most of the offices further away from the pit in the middle were actually in decent enough condition, I came across one near the bottom that was almost completely collapsed. What broke me out of my little training session wasn't the state of the walls, or even that the ceiling that was cracked down the middle and drooping precariously into the office. No, it was the smell. It smelled like ash and smoke. I looked around, finding scorch marks literally burned through the walls in several places. I stepped over the ruined pieces of wood that had probably served as a door in the not too distant past, and walked further into the room.

It was an absolute mess. While most of the other offices and hallways had paper and office supplies strewn about, I had observed that most of the larger and more expensive furniture and electronics had been removed. This office though? Or rather what I assumed to be the lobby. It looked like it was still fully stocked with benches, chairs and computers - it even had a vending machine. Only they were all completely ruined. It looked like a fight had taken place here. Maybe even the big one. I carefully walked through what looked like a lobby, careful not to trip on the detritus on the floor, or bump my head on the sagging ceiling. I didn't even have to find the doors to get into the main office, as a large part of the wall was simply missing. The smell was getting more acrid, like burned plastic the further I went. Part of another wall was broken down further in, fortunately letting in enough light to see by. It wasn't like the electricity was still running, even with otherwise functional lamps everywhere.

In the corner of what had obviously been a pretty normal cubicle lined office space, I found the source of the smell. Something had burned with a fury here. It almost looked like a something had exploded. There were scorched pieces of metal, wood and plastic – the remains of several missing cubicles scattered outwards from the black patch of wall and floor. The rest of the room was much the same. You could still get an idea of how it might have looked before, but it was absolutely thrashed. I shook my head a little. It wasn't surprising, but it did bother me. It seemed like an absolute waste; another building in outer Metropolis absolutely gutted. I guess at least the construction and insurance companies were having a field day, but I wondered what would happen to all of the people working here, and the companies they had worked for. These companies weren't exactly backed by a Kord, Luthor or a Wayne. Money was probably a lot more finite for companies and people out here.

I turned around, walking towards the entrance my right foot almost went out underneath me, something from under my foot rolling away in the distance. I regained my balance, flushing at almost being taken down by a pencil "pencil, I will end you!" Watching my footing, I walked in the direction of the broken table it seemed to have rolled under. Sure, maybe I was being petty, but breaking the offending pencil would be cathartic. So sue me.

I reached under the broken table, pawing at the floor when a sharp pain on my index finger sent me teleporting back into the lobby. I pulled off my glove, looking at my index finger were a shallow cut was starting to well with blood. I stuck the finger in my mouth, the sharp taste of iron making me grimace. I looked around the lobby, spotting some surprisingly intact tissues on top of a small table. Sure, they were all crinkled from dried water, probably as a result of the fire suppression system, but they'd do. Definitely bringing a small first-aid kit in the future though. I put my tissue-enveloped finger pack into my glove, and moved towards the table again. I was moving more cautious now, but the pencil would get what was coming for it.

Instead of grasping blindly this time, I pushed the table further back, revealing the pencil and… an arrow with green fletching? I picked up the arrow, noting the shiny-metallic arrowhead. Ah, so that's what I accidently prodded. I wrapped the arrowhead in a piece of fabric from the floor, probably the remains of a shirt or something, and put it in my bag.

After zipping up my bag again, I frowned at the pencil on the floor in front of me. It had caused me to almost fall over, but without it, I wouldn't have found my nifty little memento. I sighed, and then shrugged "You got lucky today pencil, count your blessings".

I'd been here long enough, time to go home and make some food. I should probably also get some reading in. Classes weren't going to pass themselves. Unfortunate that.


	4. Chapter 4 - Welcome Surprises

**AN: Bit of a shorter chapter, but the next one should be full sized again.**

 **Chapter 4 – Welcome surprises**

"Earth to Will, earth calling buddy!"

Huh? I grimaced at the noise. What now?

"Hey! Wake up, I wasn't gone for that long!" the incessant voice shouted… well to my ears at least. I looked at my phone, noting that I'd probably dozed off in the little private study room at the MetU. I cracked an eye open and sent a scowl at the person making the noise.

"I'm here, I'm here. You said you'd be gone for five minutes, and it's been thirty David!"

David, my friend, classmate and the offending object preventing my little nap had to decency to at least look a little sheepish at that. "I know, my bad. There was a line, and then there was this girl. Cute smile and al-"

"David I'm really not interested in whatever pretty face made you late this time. Did you at least get what I asked?" I frowned at him

He's a good guy, good friend even, but he's not really the best guy to do a paper with. Easily distracted by… well anything really, but particularly the opposite sex. Hardly unique, but it wasn't exactly the first time he'd gone for a snack, a toilet break or something else and left me hanging. Still visibly deflated, he sent a sheepish look my way. "I… you know, what with the line and all, lots of customers" My eyes narrowed even further. He'd gone to the cantina to get a snack, and I asked him to bring me a coffee and a piece of whatever fruit they had. Obviously I had overestimated my friend. Watching my annoyed expression start to turn angry, he let out a laugh and pointed at me "You should see yourself buddy! Of course I got it. Least I could do after the delay" He plunked down my coffee and a banana in front of me. Fine, he'd live. This time.

We'd agreed to meet up at the MetU so we could get started on the paper, and divvy up the segments. Both of us worked better without constant oversight, but that didn't mean there was no value in outside input or proper planning.

I reached into my bag, aiming for my laptop when something I touched something pointed. Not hard enough to break skin or anything, but enough for me to know that it certainly wasn't my laptop, nor anything else that was supposed to be in… my… wrong bag. Crap. Rushing out of my apartment so as not to be late (for all the good that did me) I'd grabbed the wrong bag. No laptop, but instead I had one very sharp and point green arrow. I pulled it up, absently twirling it around my finger. Well I couldn't really use this for notes I mused.

"Dude!" David exclaimed, eyes widening and standing up so fast that his chair fell over with a crash.

I started looking around for whatever might have set him off, at the same time doing my best to resist the nascent 'pulling' sensation before something bad happened. "What?! Where?!"

Still standing, he raised his right arm, pointing aggressively in my direction "Arrow!"

Oh. Yeah, I suppose it was a little odd, but damnit he'd almost given me another 'spatial' accident! "Yes! Arrow. Calm down man!"

"Green Arrow!"

"Correct? It's gre- close your mouth David, come on!"

He looked as if I'd grown a second head. Apparently I was missing something. "No Will, not a green arrow, the Green Arrow. The superhero. Star City? Justice League? Ring a bell?"

Okay, obviously the whole powered community wasn't really my thing, and seeing as most supers didn't really do reality tv or morning cartoons, I never really had much cause to look them up, outside of the news. "Uhhh.. The Robin Hood guy with the silly hat?"

"…. He wears a hood these days" David muttered, probably not approving of his previous headwear anymore than I did. But hey, it meant I actually sorta knew who the super was for once. Go team Will!

I looked at the arrow, which was indeed green. "Okay. So what, you think this is one of his?"

"I don't think, I know it's one of his! I've seen a ton of pictures on the forums. They say that he makes them himself – that they're unique"

"Okay, so I've got a special pointy stick. What's your point?"

"My point is, Will,-" he continued, as if speaking to a particularly slow child "-that collectors pay through the nose for stuff like that! I mean stuff like arrows and baterangs are some of the more ordinary objects that you can find, but it should still net a somewhere in the hundreds, if not a full grand!"

Baterangs? What the hell is that even, and who would name something that? "… for an arrow? People seriously pay that much, for what is essentially super garbage?"

"Dude, really? Haven't you seen what people will pay for autographs or napkins and shit from other celebrities?"

Well, like most other people, I guess I had heard about ridiculous sums being exchanged for the basest of objects, as long as a celebrity had touched it. Or blown their nose in it. Yuck. "Huh."

"No kidding 'huh'. Where did you even find it?" David stated flatly, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. I guess this was more within his ballpark than mine.

"Condemned building near my apartment complex. You know, there's a new one each month. Saw something shiny on my way to get groceries a few days ago, picked it up and kinda forgot about it." It was getting a little worrying how easy it was for me to lie. They really did just roll of the tongue. Besides, in this case, the lie was a lot more probable than the truth.

"That's right, you're in the outer area. I guess you do hear about more fights happening out there. I wonder if there is more stuff out there dude, we should go check it out!"

We really shouldn't though. I'd be fairly safe with my ability to move around, but David? In a condemned building that might fall apart at the wrong step? Yeah, no. Besides, if something did happen, my secret would be out. "Scratch that Dave, we are not going into condemned buildings to look for baubles. I'm not throwing my life away for a grand"

Dave looked a little crestfallen, no doubt already imagining adventures and money abounds. "Sure, I mean, I guess it would be dangerous…"

Okay, he didn't seem to get it. I'd been to a couple of those buildings, and there was a reason that they were condemned. "Dude, I know you like super stuff, but-"

"Yeah, yeah, quit harping – you've made your point" David said, aiming a dirty look in my direction. Okay, so maybe he did get it. My bad.

His dirty look didn't last for long though. "… can I see it?"

"Sure, but let's hurry up and get the prep-work done after."

After fanboy-ing over the green arrow for a while, we finally got the actual paper. It honestly didn't take too long. While David's little detour had added to the time, we usually agreed on how to structure our papers, and had a pretty similar process, so our whole 'divide and conquer' approach to group papers was compared to other groups, pretty damn painless.

After packing up our stuff, David sending a jealous look my way when the arrow went back into my bag, we went our separate ways. The shorter guy needed to get his car from the parking garage, still open after the attack, and I… didn't. I had decided to forego my car today, because of reasons. Okay, so I had gotten tired of being stuck in traffic, and navigating through the ever-changing open roads into Metropolis proper and the MetU. Teleporting was, well, a pretty good timesaver. And it let me train with the ability! It was definitely mostly because of the latter part I tried convincing myself. I told David that I had decided to walk today because of the weather and a standard lame excuse about getting in shame. Fortunately it worked almost too well when told to a guy struggling with losing a few pounds himself. It also came with an offer to join the gym he 'frequented', which definitely was not going to happen. Not only didn't I particularly like gyms, but if I went, it sure as hell wouldn't be with a guy like David. We'd never get anything done, and I'd spend half the time waiting for him to finish conversations with whatever random person happened to be near.

So instead of my car, I took to the roofs, my winter half-mask already rolled up from around my neck and the hood up. Sure, it wouldn't stand close scrutiny in broad daylight if someone who knew me got close enough, but the chance of that happening were slim to none.

* * *

I'd had an emergency shift at my job at the grocery store that I hadn't been able to wiggle out of without consequences, so now I was stuck outside at nine thirty PM in close to total darkness due to the cloud cover. A sudden wind cut through my light jacket, causing goose bumps to form all over. The pit-patter of the falling rain didn't really help me out either. I really wasn't dressed for this, and guess who decided it would be quicker to just teleport over? This guy, that's who. Guess who couldn't do the same right now because of the rain and darkness? Also this increasingly cold idiot right here. Damnit, there's a reason I wasn't supposed to get all caught up in this whole powered thing, it apparently did make people dumber.

I sighed and tried to find some temporary cover while brining out my phone. I might not like spending the money, but getting sick would be even more expensive, so I called and requested a cab for my current address. I quickly put the phone back in my pocket, not wanting to expose it to any more rain than I had to. I found, that if I literally leaned against the building, then its roof would provide a little protection from the rain – provided the wind didn't change direction at least.

I started zoning out, when a car horn brought me back to reality with a start. I only just managed to keep my balance, if not my dignity, but at this point, my dignity was less a concern than getting into a nice and toasty cab. I waved at the cab, notifying him that I had noticed and was on my way, and proceeded to completely soak my shoes and the bottom of my pant legs when I walked off the sidewalk and into the street… right by the damn storm drain. I think there's a lesson in there about looking before crossing or some such, and I feel like while it wasn't really meant for rain and storm drains, it would probably work out just as well. On the bright side, what's a little more water when your blue jeans have already turned black from the rain? I got in the back of the cab with a wet squish of my shoes on the carpeted cab floor, and a long wet drag mark on the seat. Whoops, my bad. I smiled sheepishly at the cabbie, only then recognizing the middle-aged man behind the wheel. Judging from his cocked eyebrow and his rapidly falling attempt at looking stern, the recognition was mutual.

"Sorry about the water Tomek" I said with a relived smile

"I don't think you control the weather, mm?" he smiled back. "Besides, a little rain is hardly the worst I've had in my cab, and at least you don't smell like burning rubber this time"

Burnin- right. First time I'd got a ride with Tomek, it had been after finding my first car in flames in the middle of a rainstorm. Come to think of it, last time I'd gotten a ride, it had been after my second car had been smashed, and now he was the one to pick me up in a second rainstorm? I'm not sure if that made me or him unlucky.

"Nope, just water this time"

He gave me a big smile filled with crooked yellowing teeth"So you didn't lose a third car since last I had you in my cab?"

"Hah, nope. I just didn't drive here today. Not really my best decision all things considered" Understatement of the year, Will. I was lucky if my phone didn't die on me.

"No kiddin'! Well, I suppose you'll be wanting to go home?"

"That would be appreciated Tomek" I gave him a tired smile

"No problem. Will, was it?"

"Yeah, impressive memory." I mean, he must've had hundreds of customers since the last time he saw me.. and well, the first time I hadn't been in the best of moods.

"Well, you've supplied me with better stories than most of my customers, makes it easy! So tell me, what makes a young man run around in the rain at nine thirty PM?"

Ah. I couldn't really blame him for that. God knows one of the primary ways of keeping your sanity when it came to my current job, was telling stories of funny or terrible customers.

"My job, unfortunately. Had an emergency shift, so I kind of had to drop-" I noticed the words 'prison break' in the middle of my speaking and stopped. Goddamn revolving prisons, I swear it seemed like the supers in prison never lasted more than a few months at most. "Hey Tomek, you mind turning up the volume on the radio?"

"Sure thing" Tomek leaned over a little and started dialing on the knob on the center console, the volume rising drastically in response.

"…. A prison break has occurred no more than thirty minutes ago during transport to Stryker's Island. Though MPD had release no statement as of yet, our own sources are informing us that the transport was carrying infamous criminal Philip 'Barrage' Karnowsky. Karnowsky was recently apprehended by Metropolis' favorite daughter Supergirl, after a violent crime spree resulting in one death, the destruction of a large part of the MetU as well as millions in damages… We're now hearing that one corrections officer was killed on site, and another is in critical condition. We're also hearing that a group known as 'Intergang' is believed to have facilitated Karnowky's escape. Very little is known about the secretive criminal organization, but they seem to have access to advanced technology. We'll update you, our listeners when more information comes in. Till then, keep safe everyone"

I could feel my heart rate start to climb. Philip. Fucking. Karnowsky. The bane of my goddamn existence! He's smashed my car, he'd trashed my university, he'd exposed me to a prototype meta-formula that I still didn't know exactly how affected me, and he'd killed an old cleaning lady. He had just killed again and he was free to continue once again… I…I.."

"…ill…Will… Will!" the cabbie shouted at me

"What!?" I snapped back at him

"Calm yourself! You're going to burst a blood vessel or something… Jeez kid, you know that Barrage guy?"

I tried to take a deep breath, letting go of a little of the anger, before relaxing the muscles in my arms. My knuckles were bone-white and almost cramping from how hard I'd squeezed my soaked jacket. I hadn't even noticed. Okay, calm down. Calm.

"I… know of him. You remember that my car was smashed when you picked me up last time?" Tomek nodded cautiously, probably knowing where I was going with this "Well, he's the guy that smashed it. He's also, as you just heard, the guy who smashed part of my university to pieces."

His expression got a little less tense, but he still seemed a little cautious. I think I deserved that given how I had reacted. Instinctive rage wasn't really how I saw myself.

"Well damn kid. I suppose I can understand why you don't exactly like the guy, but you looked ready to wring someone's neck."

"I'm sorry. It just caught me by surprise" I let out a long, tired sigh "I should've known better, prisons seem to have revolving doors for supers."

He nodded slowly, seemingly thinking something along the same lines "Yeah.. It doesn't really seem like Uncle Sam or the heroes know what to do with them"

I couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice this time "No I suppose they don't. Must be hard to see the consequences from up high"

"You mean the government or the heroes?"

"Both."

We drove in silence for the rest of the trip.

* * *

I'd had a few days to calm down. Honestly, the whole situation was a little embarrassing in hindsight. I'd actually made my favorite cabbie nervous (well, only cabbie whose name I knew). I mean rationally I knew why it had happened, surprise being one part, but the other that this was all of a sudden personal. I suppose I was carrying a bit of a grudge, but on the other hand, I knew that this wasn't really my problem to fix. I wouldn't even know how even if I did want to do something. No, let the police handle it, or any of the supers, and just pray there wouldn't be quite as much collateral damage this time around.

I was sitting by my desk trying to ignore the scent of crispier-than-intended toast in the air, when my phone started ringing. I briefly look at the number. Ah, Mr. Sanders from the bookstore. I quickly saved the document I was working on, before swinging my feet up onto the edge of the table, narrowly missing the plate with half-eaten toast on it.

"Hey, Will here." Stupid greeting rituals. Of course it was me, he'd called my phone.

"Will, it's Jim Sanders"

Jim? Never actually knew his first name till now. "Ah, hi Mr. Sanders. What can I help you with?"

"Well, you see, I took your advice and started considering getting a part-timer to help out around here."

Well, I had a pretty good idea where this was heading, but no reason to put the cart before the horse. "Good! I'm sure it'll pay off for you Mr. Sanders"

"That is definitely my hope. Will, if you're willing, I'd like to invite you in for an interview. I realize it must seem a little superfluous, but I prefer being thorough"

Okay so not a straight job offer, but close enough! "Of course sir, I don't mind at all. When do you have in mind?"

I could hear the older man hum a little to himself, while leafing through some papers. Probably a calendar I decided. "Would you mind coming by at twelve PM on Sunday? The shop is closed then, so we can have the interview without any interruptions"

Made sense. Sunday was the only day when the shop wasn't open. I honestly felt a little bad that he was using his only day off for more work. On the bright side, this would actually alleviate that situation a little. "That sounds perfect sir, I'll be there. Do you need me to bring anything?"

"No, no I think we'll be quite alright - unless of course you have something to confess to, hm?" Mr. Sanders remarked with a good-natured laugh.

Ah, there was the Sanders I'd gotten to know a little. "Nothing anyone can prove, sir. I'll be there Sunday at twelve PM."

"Good-" a familiar bell rung in the back ground, and I could hear Mr. Sanders talking to someone in the background, probably a customer or something. Figured that someone would need his help, store wasn't currently closed. "Ah, I'm back Will. So sorry, I have a delivery I need to sign off on. I'll see you Sunday."

"Of course, you go ahead and take of the store, sir." I said with a smile before hanging up. This was exactly why the old man needed a part-timer.

I'll admit, while I had kinda hoped and expected the call, it was a huge relief to actually get it. Sure, the pay probably wasn't anything special, and per his warnings, the hours may not be fantastic either, but working odd hours isn't really a big deal on a university schedule. The most important part was more psychological though. I'd have a job in a place I really liked, and with a boss I respected. I mean, sure the employee prices on books, if it happened, also promised to be pretty damn sweet, but the most important aspect by far, would be not hating the entire time I was actually there. And, uhm… maybe I'd run into Linda a bit more often.

I got up from my chair with a creak of protest from my chair, though I suddenly a bit lighter on my feet. I grabbed the plate from my desk on the way to the kitchen, and threw it into the sink with a clang. I started rummaging around my cupboards and fridge, not leaving the kitchen until I had a small armful of coke, chips and candy. I deserved a treat. I put the stuff down on my table, pushing some textbooks to the side to make room, before unceremoniously plopping down onto the chair. Well, I was close to done with my part of the paper, and David hadn't contacted me for a meet-up, so I figured I earned a little time off.

I opened my browser and started looking around for a place that sold super paraphernalia. It turns out that searching for the combination of 'superhero', 'for sale' and 'items' meant getting suggestions in two different extremes. The first one I had sort of expected such as costumes, belts and so forth for kids. The other one of a decidedly more mature nature, and was almost frighteningly overrepresented. I suppose, I wasn't the only one that appreciated the look of some of the female supers out there. I kind of wondered whether Wonder Woman or Black Canary knew about it. I mean, I figured they should technically receive royalties or license money or something.

I decided to change my search parameters a little bit, and struck gold when found my way to a more professional-looking forum. The forum included guides on and discussions on selling and buying objects from supers, and while it wasn't quite an ebay or amazon, it still had a surprising amount of stuff available, and tabs for different items allegedly belonging to different supers – heroes and villains alike it seemed. Huh, David might actually be on to something. Some of the prices honestly shocked me, and not just for the prices. Select pieces of 'collectibles' sold for more, sure, but the higher rated female superheroes seemed to have a more rapid following, which in turn also meant more competition for their 'collectibles'. The odd part was that pieces of female uniforms went for much more than their male counterparts.

Okay, so there was definitely a fair share of creeps here, wanting to own half-torn female uniforms or even their ruined footwear, but there also seemed to be a more innocent variety of collectors, people who were looking for simpler stuff like the arrow I had found, or different throwing weapons. Hell, some people even bought random junk from the scene of some of the bigger fights – kinda like how some people would pocket a pebble from a mountain or a beech they really liked. Odd, but innocent enough I suppose, and if I could make a quick buck or two, so much the better!

I looked around for a while, noting that there was indeed a market for the arrow I had found, but that it might be better to wait a little while for the demand to go up. Besides, seeing as I didn't immediately need the money, it was probably also the more sensible approach. But if this was really how well some of this sold, then I'd definitely make it a point to scout through some of the condemned buildings I was training my 'porting in. In a way, I'd only be doing the city a favor, I'd be cleaning up after the supers and their reckless fights. Regular pillar of the community type shit!

That actually reminded me, there were several places nearby that would fit the bill, and I didn't really have anything important going on today. I briefly looked at my textbooks before picking up another potato chip and throwing it into my mouth with a smile. Nothing too important at any rate.

* * *

Well, despite frequenting some of the sites of battle and condemned buildings, I hadn't found anything too special. Small fragments of clothing was pretty commonplace, and didn't really sell that well – too easy to fake I guess. I did manage to find half of a baterang (again, baterang, really?) which could possibly be sold for a few hundred dollars. While the potential money was welcome, it just wasn't really worth the effort if several afternoons and evenings of training and searching had only yielded half of an item. There was probably an easier way of doing this, especially with my powers, but I'd have to think on that a bit more.

At least I'd managed to quit my current job with very little trouble – I'd even managed to ditch my shifts for the weekend, so I was finally free from the yoke of irrationally angry grocery store customers. I was fairly certain that Mr. Sanders received less verbal abuse in the bookstore, so hopefully that would also be the case for me. If I was hired. I mean, I was totally getting hired, but still!

I started getting dressed for the interview, a little more formal than my everyday clothes, with a button-down and some new black jeans. Hell, I even wore my good shoes and gave myself a fine shave. I know I wasn't exactly wearing a full suit or anything, but then again, I'd never seen Mr. Sanders in that either, and the barista on the second floor usually just wore a t-shirt with an apron over it. I was dressed fine. Wasn't I? I went to my mirror in my bedroom, making sure I hadn't missed a patch of hair on my chin, or that my hair didn't look like a birds nest. No. I was fine. Dress to impress. Or was that for dates? No I wasn't that formal, and Mr. Sanders would probably just make an amused observation if I either over-or under did my outfit. Right. No problem. Already in the bag. Happy thoughts. Oh! I hurried over to my computer, quickly sending David an e-mail with my part of our paper attached - wouldn't do to leave him hanging when I had no clue when I'd be back again. Besides, he'd volunteered to actually put our two documents together, no sense in looking a gift horse in the mouth.

I suppose I was ready, and I should be able to be there a bit ahead of time. I briefly wondered the car needed gas, and then quickly dismissed the idea. I may have been a little… liberal in using my ability to transport myself. At first I was a little paranoid about people looking up, but really as long as I aimed my 'jumps' away from the edge of a building's roof, then no one that wasn't already on the roof would see me. The fact that it was near instantaneous meant anyone up there would only see a dark blur show up before I was another few buildings away, which I decided, made my ability a lot more convenient. Sure, the downside was that I often needed a bit of a breather due to the physical cost before making the last 'jump' but that was mostly if I went as fast as I currently could. Exertion wise it was kinda like jogging in terms of the time spent 'jumping' only covering far more ground, but it was compounded by both distance and how fast I made my consecutive jumps. Honestly, it might impact weight as well, but I hadn't experimented with any added weight outside of a normal bag. I had noted however, that the odd, I don't know what to call it, secondary ability? The instinctive teleporting? Well I noticed that it took a lot more out of me, but it also seemed to be far less limited, most notably in that it didn't seem to give a shit for small stuff like line of sight, or actually having ever been to the target location before. I think I was actually happier not knowing how that part worked.

I walked to the outside parking space where my car was most of the year. Yeah, no fancy underground parking out here, but I suspect that was mostly because the buildings out here were on average far older, so that little convenience hadn't been added back then. But who knew, when the construction was finished on a lot of the old condemned sites, maybe they'd have underground parking.

I kicked at a plastic bag that had snagged my foot on my way to the parking lot. Not the first time that had happened here, and not the last judging from the trash scattered over the broken pavement. When I got to my car I had to actually physically turn the key in the door to get. Beeper was dead, so I'd have to be all retro. Actually, the beeper was already dead when I bought the car, but I'd been in a bit of a rush after losing my first one, so beeper definitely wasn't a big priority. I tried getting comfortable in the seat, my squirming pulling my button down loose from my pants. Damnit. I got the seat belt on, a little more aggressively than I had intended. Of course the seatbelt, snug as it was supposed to be, ended up ruining some of the ironing that had got into the shirt. Double damnit. I stared wistfully at the nearest rooftop, feeling the weird pulling current the more I focused on it. No. Bad. Drive like a normal person! With a sigh I turned the key in the ignition and got onto the road heading towards Metropolis. Maybe I wouldn't even have to detour due to construction or collateral damage. I turned on the radio, figuring that was at least something teleporting didn't have. Then I remembered that I literally had access to millions of songs on my phone. So much for that perk.

At the least the drive and the parking had been uneventful, and lo and behold, no rubble, blinking lights or sirens to navigate around. I was actually in more than good time. Hopefully Mr. Sanders wouldn't mind my stopping by a bit earlier, but a good twenty minutes was probably pushing it. So now that I had fulfilled my self-imposed rule to get here by completely mundane means, I could probably look around the area… from the rooftops. I looked around my car, pawing at the soft fabric of the seat behind me for a bag that wasn't there. Drat. No bag meant no mask or hoodie, which in turn meant no disguise, and no disguise meant no 'jumping' around on rooftops. I mean, it was probably for the best. That's at least what I told myself while trying not to mope a little. Fine! I got out of the car, briefly making sure my button down was safely tucked in my pants again, and then decided to take the long way around to the bookstore.

I was standing in front of the bookstore façade around ten minutes before the interview was supposed to start. Okay, so maybe the long way around hadn't been that long, and long legs meant it was even shorter. I had in fact already been standing outside for at least five minutes trying to look inconspicuous, when the door in front of me opened, the clean-shaven but weathered face of Mr. Sanders peeked out.

"I realize that I said twelve PM Will, and while I applaud punctuality as a character trait, you don't have to stand outside in the wind."

"Of course, sir. Merely enjoying the fresh air" I said with a deliberately unconvincing smile

Mr. Sanders merely shook his head a little in amusement "Yes well, if you're quite done enjoying the weather, I've got some coffee on the heater, and we have an interview to get through"

"Coffee would be nice" I agreed following the older man in, glibly ignoring his little joke on my behalf.

The older man walked at a stiff pace belying his years, expertly navigating the book stands, tables and furniture scattered on the way to the staircase. "I hope you didn't have any trouble getting here" he asked from ahead of me.

"No no, the road was actually completely clear for once, not a fallen building or burst water main in sight" Ah, small-talk to settle my nerves.

"Good good, I know how it can get sometimes. You never can tell, what with some people being able to fly and lift cars these days" Oh? Was that disapproval I heard in his voice. Not on the hero-worship bandwagon then. Good on you Mr. Sanders.

"These days? I suppose things were different here a few decades ago?" I was genuinely curious. My hometown and the area around it had never had cause to attract any permanent supers, but Metropolis was a hotbed for them. It probably hadn't always been that way.

He seemed to ponder my question for a few steps. "Different, yes. Both good and bad though. There was more organized crime back then, much like Gotham now, only less… dire. But it wasn't completely absent of powered individuals, though they were few and far between, nothing like now. And we definitely had no Superman."

With the final creaks of the carpet-covered steps of the staircase, we finally got to the third floor. I looked around, noting that aside from it being empty of customers, he didn't seem to have anything special set up. Ah, the den in the middle then.

We walked around the tables and shelves hiding the den from most the room, and probably the only place where you could get some privacy. Mostly I think he'd let it be designed so larger groups could drink coffee together, or so people could read without someone walking by constantly. The first part was probably a fairly solid idea financially, while the latter was just kind.

Mr. Sanders motioned for me to sit down across from the easy chair he was headed for. I sat down, and leaned forwards so as to be within better reach of the table, but also so I wouldn't look to slovenly. Unfortunately, the motion meant that my button up was once again partially pulled out of my pants. I really, really hate tucking button ups, but culture seemed to dictate it in more formal settings. Blegh.

"Will, or rather, Mr. Putnam, can I offer some coffee before we get started?"

God yes "I'd appreciate it, sir, and by all means, Will is more than fine"

With a nod he started pouring two cups of steaming coffee from a pot on the table, and pushed one cup towards me "There's milk and sugar, feel free to add"

Don't mind if I do. I only added milk though, as sugar tended to ruin coffee instead of adding to it. "Thank you, sir".

Adding nothing to his own cup, he leaned bag in the chair a little, his fingers steepled in front of him. "So Will, I wanted to give you the first shot at the part-time job I'm opening up here. Not only because you suggested the need for one to begin with, but also because of the help that you have provided over the past few weeks. You also showed good initiative in helping out Linda-" at the mention of the cute blonde, a small smirk found a way to his lips, having a little fun at my expense no doubt "with finding her way to the academic section. I also happen to know that you've helped other customers before, and you've definitely been here often enough to know how most of my inventory is organized".

I tried keeping a straight face, but he was kinda stealing all of my talking points! I mean sure, he was technically right, but wasn't I supposed to, you know, be the one 'selling' myself?

"Furthermore, you seem reliable and punctual, and your personal tastes seem to run wider than just comic books or the newest best-seller fiction. Am I missing anything?"

Okay, he wasn't really. And that was kind of a problem. The hell do I say now? "I also make a mean chili?"… I probably should have just kept my mouth shut.

At least Mr. Sanders didn't seem to mind, actually cracking a smile. "Well, you won't have any kitchen duties, but I'll be sure to keep that in mind." His façade finally cracked entirely, chuckling to himself and his smile showing teeth. "I'm sorry Will. The job is yours if you want it. You're over qualified really, but if you don't mind the hours or the pay, then it's definitely yours. I only really needed you here to sign the contract."

I stared at the old man, one eyebrow lifted at his antics. Seems like I'd have to prepare for his special brand of humor. "Well, now that you've had your fun Jim-" I stressed his name while I narrowed of my eyes "I'd like to ask a question or two if you don't mind?"

If he took any offence at my using his first name, he didn't show it whatsoever. "Of course Will, ask away"

"What kind of hours are we talking about? Are there any employee benefits? And what can I expect my hourly pay to be?"

"Ah, those would be pertinent questions, wouldn't they?"

We ended up sitting there for a good hour, and covered most of my questions about pay and so forth, while also getting to know each other a little bit better, and rapidly emptying the pot of coffee. When I finally got home, I was pretty well satisfied with the position. While the hours were fewer, the pay was a bit better, and as I hoped, I'd also be able to save a ton on books, both for classes, but also fiction. Most importantly, I was pretty sure I'd like it there. Not a bad turn of events Will, not bad at all.


	5. Chapter 5 - Best Laid Plans

**AN: Due to how this chapter ends, I'll post the next chapter a week from now, instead of the "usual" two. Cuts a week off my writing time, but so be it. Maybe it'll kick my motivation into gear if there's a little pressure. As always, gimme a shout if you've got questions, critique etc.**

 **\- Oh yeah, might be some slightly graphic stuff in this one, fair warning.**

 **Anyways, enjoy.**

 **Chapter 5 – Best laid plans…**

Things were pretty damn good. David and I had turned our paper in, and there were still a good couple of months before the exam period would start. I'd managed to land a new job and quit my old one, and I still had money on my account. Thanks to my little involuntary gift by collateral damage, I was probably also in the best shape I'd been in since getting to Metropolis. I even had a potential secondary income that I was uniquely qualified to capitalize on given my new powers. Sure, according to David I still needed to go out more and be 'young' whatever the hell that actually means.

I'd decided that after getting hired by Mr. Sanders, I really needed to pick up those books before it got awkward. I mean, it'd look kinda bad picking up free books after also receiving paychecks from the man. So a clean start meant not having old favors hanging over his or my head. Also, I had run out of good reading material, though of course, that was a secondary concern… promise.

Well, it'd been around a week since the interview, and there was still a week till I officially started, so that particular symmetry also appealed to me, and it being the weekend just meant that I had more time to browse, as long as I didn't run into Linda. I mean, not that I'd particularly mind running into her again.

I considered using my powers to get there faster, and not risk getting stuck in traffic, but a look out of my tiny basement windows dissuaded me of that notion. I'd been out in the rain before, and while I might still be able to 'jump' as long as it didn't get too bad or dark, I would look ridiculous doing it with an umbrella, and I'd be far more noticeable. Pretty counterintuitive all things considered. No, the car would have to do. It's not like I was really reliant on my powers or anything.

I grabbed a dark sports coat hanging over the back of a chair, didn't hurt to look good in case I ran into, ahem, someone. I walked out to my car, nodding to another tenant on my way out of the slightly dingy basement level, and managed not to step in any trash for once. I'd love for people to clean up after themselves, but looking at the outdoor garbage can, pardon me, the mounting brackets for the outdoor garbage can, they didn't really help the thrash-throwingly inclined, to remedy their attitude.

I got into my car, idly noting that parking my car under a tree, during winter, was grand for limiting snow, but it was pretty shitty during the summer when a lot of birds inhabited them. Shitty, you see, because of the well, the shit currently drying on my windshield. I pulled out of the parking lot, quickly giving my windscreen a double dose of window washer fluid, to get most of the offending white and green goop off, and headed towards the bookstore. I'd barely been on the raid for fifteen minutes, and was nearing the bridge to the central part of Metropolis, when I noticed a black plume of smoke coming from further ahead. As large as it was, it made judging the distance pretty hard, but it was definitely towards the middle of the city. At least, it wasn't in the direction of the MetU, so I'd still have a university to go to.

Oh well, hardly the first fire I'd seen in the city, and I'd wager it wasn't really someone forgetting to turn off their stove. It rarely was in Metropolis. I kept driving towards the bookstore, the rapidly growing plume of smoke still straight ahead, but still far enough away that I couldn't hear sirens yet. Damn, the fire really had to be going strong on some poor building. Hopefully singular. Metropolis firefighters were pretty effective though, so even if it was near the bookstore, it shouldn't be a problem unless it was literally right next door. Either way, I'd ask Sanders if he needed help with anything if it got closer. I mean, not that I'm sure what you could do to fireproof a building literally filled with paper. Yeah, he had to be getting a little nervous.

I was nearing my customary underground parking garage when the novelty was definitely wearing off. Novelty like a train wreck or a car accident, you know the stupid part of human nature that makes some people stop and stare at catastrophes, not the entertaining kind of novelty. Thank god for underground parking though, I mean I truly did emphasize with the people involved, but I'd still take the option that didn't get my car covered in soot. Right when I was about to drive down into the parking garage, I saw burning pieces of some kind in the smoke that was blown in my direction, one piece even getting stuck on the wiper at the bottom of the windshield. Damn, if it was this close, then Mr. Sanders really might need my help after all. I got out of the car, throwing my sports coat onto the passenger seat – no sense in getting it all messed up, besides, the white t-shirt I was wearing was enough for the weather, and easily replaceable if it got dirtied. The first thing I noticed when I got out of the car was the smell. The smell of the fire was overpowering, even down here. Shit, couldn't some hero do something about this? I'd think a burning building in the middle of the damn city would provoke some sort of reaction, but judging from the plume and the amount of smoke, this wasn't some tiny fire. I reached over the hood of my car, to get rid of the piece of blacked debris that had gotten stuck while driving here. I was about to throw it away and leave when I noticed that it had writing on it. It wasn't just a piece of paper, it was the burnt page of a book.

Fuck! No no no no no! Any part of me still holding to the idea that the fire was merely close, but surely hadn't directly impacted the Sanders' bookstore vanished completely. I started running out of the parking garage as fast as my legs could carry me. Even as I turned the corner, running parallel to the park across from the bookstore, I had to pull my t-shirt over my mouth and nose due to all the smoke, but I couldn't do anything about the oppressive heat or the stinging in my eyes. I could however see the blinking lights of sirens, and hear the shouting of people further ahead of me. The bookstore was… it was dead. This, this wasn't something you just fixed. The roof of the old building was partially collapsed, and a part of the façade was crumbling. There seemed to be less fire than I imagined, but with the heat and the smoke, it was hard to really judge. Oh god, Sanders. Linda. The comic section on the second floor was mostly occupied by kids and teenagers. I took one hesitant step forwards, then another, almost breaking into a run when and arm held me back.

"id! Hey, Kid! Keep back, nothing you can do here. Stay behind the fire engines and let the professionals do their job"

I barely even noted the words. I.. why was it burning? What happened? I.. uh, I needed to find Sanders. Make sure he was fine. The books… the uh.. I looked down absently registering that I was still being held back, and that someone was still trying to talk to me. I looked from the arm to the rest of the person holding me back. A middle aged police MPD officer stood in front of me, a worried expression starting to form on his face.

"Hey kid, calm down. We're doing what we can here. What's-"

"Sanders" I blurted out, interrupting the officer "Where's Sanders? Did you, uh, old man who owns the store, do you kno-"

"Ah. You're a friend or family of the owner?"

It was hard to focus, like I was straining myself even forming cohesive thoughts "Friend, employee. Is he okay?"

The worried expression quickly changed to sympathy, and the tone of the officers tone changed "He, along with what we think are most of the customers got out before the fire really go going. Most have been taken to Metropolis General. He was hurt when he came out, thought I don't know much else son."

A small part of my building panic seemed to dissipate "so he's okay…" I mumbled to myself, before my eyes widened and my head moved towards the burning structure "There are still people in there?"

The officer's eyes looked down and away from me "We can't rule it out at this point, I'm afraid."

Couldn't rule it out. Linda, the young barista… hell, anyone could be caught inside. "Do you know if a young blonde came out? Does the name Linda sound familiar at all?" I asked with desperation in my voice. I didn't even have her number, so I couldn't even call her and check.

The officer, Jefferson I noted by his nametag, took a step back, and raised an arm to the radio on his shoulder "Jefferson here, do we have a Linda noted down? Caucasian, blonde, young."

An indecipherable scratchy sound came out. I might have been able to hear the words, but there was a pounding in my head, and it was only marginally easier to focus than before.

Officer Jefferson nodded twice "Uh-huh, got it. Thanks" He looked back to me "No one with that description came out of the store. Did she work there? Was she supposed to be here today?"

"No, just a customer. I, uhm… I'm sorry for wasting your time. Thank you officer"

He nodded at me, mumbling something back into the radio. "Don't worry about it, this can't be easy on you, son. Get some distance, clean up a little-" he said that pointing at my face and white t-shirt, now liberally stained black with smoke and soot. "- and then maybe check up on your boss?"

"Yeah… that'd probably be for the best" I said in a strained voice, nodding absently.

I started backing away, only managing a few steps when a rush of flames burst out of the broken façade, sending everyone running backwards. Despite the best efforts of the firefighters and several fire engines, it looked like the fire was still raging.

That's when I heard a shrill scream coming from the fire. Oh please god no. The screaming continued, and I could see firefighters start trying to rush towards to entrance to the building, before being pushed back by another burst of flame. They were desperate.

I'm not even really sure what happened, but one minute I was standing behind a police cruiser, and the next I was standing on a roof looking into the inferno below. Between the acrid smoke stinging my eyes, and the overwhelming heat coming from the fire below, I could barely see anything through the crumbling roof. It was a challenge to even breath up here. I shook my head, trying to break out of my daze. It wasn't safe up here, I don't know why I was even-

I heard another scream, and thought I saw movement behind the smoke. How could anyone still be alive down there? I could hardly even breathe, and I was on an entirely different building! I bit down on the discomfort of standing so close to the edge, and tried to see if I could find the person in the building. There! I spotted a shape darting through the smoke and fire, closing on where I knew the huge panoramic windows where facing the park and street. The scream turned garbled and wet, like… oh… that's when it finally registered that the only reason why I could see the person through the smoke, was the light it was giving off. The person was on fire. My mind stopped. The next thing I heard was a crash of glass and an end to the garbled scream.

I just stood there, not even really noticing the burning feeling or the tears forming and drying on my cheeks. I fell to my knees, and lost my breakfast and lunch over the roof. My mind was still oddly blank. Like I was stuck in nothingness. There were no shouts, no heat, no smoke. Just complete numbness.

I don't know how long I stayed like that, sitting in my own sick while being blasted by the heat and smoke. I finally pushed off of the too-warm roof next to what remained of the bookstore, and stumbled my way to a vantage point. With very little conscious effort and a light pulling sensation my perspective changed, and I was suddenly stumbling down a nearby sidewalk instead of a roof. If anyone noticed someone popping out of nowhere, they didn't comment - at least not that I noticed.

It took me six attempts with shaking hands before the car key found the lock on the car door. It took me another fifteen minutes for my breathing to get under control. My hands didn't stop shaking the entire time though, and I had a feeling I'd have to wait more than another fifteen minutes for it to stop. It was only when I saw myself in the rearview mirror that I finally understood just how close to the fire I'd been on the roof. Everything above my nose was black from the smoke of a million burning books. I couldn't go to the hospital without at least making a token effort to get rid of some of it. I rummaged through the passenger seat compartment, quickly pulling out some tissues and a half-empty bottle of hand sanitizer – It'd have to do.

I pulled up to the hospital after a longer drive than expected. Between the police, firefighter traffic and an entire avenue closed off, traffic had congested other places, and Metropolis General being the main destination for the ambulances sent to the bookstore didn't help either. I managed to get there, but my hands were still shaking, and I couldn't actually remember most of the drive. Maybe… maybe driving wasn't actually the best idea right now. I looked out of my front window at the hospital. It was a giant of white stone and glass, keeping parts of its aesthetic from what was probably the original hospital and merging that with more modern glass and steel construction. It should have looked like a terrible mishmash of architectural styles, but it ended up looking like an almost organic transition from one style to another.

I picked up my dark sports coat from the passenger seat, hoping it'd provide a little cover for my smoke-stained t-shirt. Not much I could do about my hair, nor about the smell of smoke that was wafting off of me. I managed to get out of the car and walk across the parking lot without any undue attention, well not enough to warrant anyone actually trying to talk to me or help me, for which I was eternally grateful. I wasn't sure I manage any proper conversation right now, not after what I'd seen… what I'd see- I stumbled over to a nearby tree, keeping myself steady with one hand on its trunk. My vision started fading while my head started spinning. I tried taking some deep breaths, but nothing happened. I felt my nails dig into the bark of the tree when I felt a sudden and horrible heat on my face, the stench of acrid smoke strong in my nostrils. Worst of all, in the back of my mind, I could hear a gurgling, choking scream.

"Hey, are you okay, sir?" a worried voice asked

I think what brought me out was the part of my mind that noted how absurd it was for someone to call me 'sir'. My dad was a sir. My teachers were sirs (or ma'am). I was just a guy.

"I'm, uh, I'm alright. Just a little shook up. Needed some air, you know?" I said turning my head towards the voice. A young man, a nurse on a break judging from the half-eaten sandwich in his hand, was studying me, his eyes narrowing a little at my little proclamation. After a bit, he simply shrugged, as if saying 'not my problem right now'

"Fair enough. Well, if you need any help, you're in the right place at least. I'll let you get some air then"

I was silently grateful for his lack of interest, or at least his willingness to leave me alone. I mean, it wasn't exactly comforting how easy he was to convince, being a nurse and all, but I really didn't want to talk to anyone I didn't have to. I finally pushed off the tree and started walking towards the entrance, I figured I wouldn't magically get better over the next couple of minutes, and I needed to check in on Mr. Sanders. I walked through the automatic doors at the front entrance of the hospital, well, the entrance that had a sort of reception desk. The entry area was actually less busy than I imagined, either because of the hospital's efficiency or maybe it was just a slow day. I only had to wait behind a couple of other people before I got my chance to talk to the hospital staff behind the desk. A young Hispanic woman stood behind the counter, looking calm and professional.

"What can I hel-" the nurse, at least she looked like a nurse, quickly stopped her rehearsed greeting, looking me over and even giving a twitch of her nose before starting again, this time with much more attention "Sir, do I need to get a nurse for you? Are you hurt?"

I merely gave her a tired twitch of my lips "I'm okay. I wasn't directly involved. But I am looking for someone who was"

She only nodded and gave me a sympathetic smile. She had probably already guessed where I came from. Not a lot of huge fires at any one time. "From the bookstore fire. Can you tell me who you're looking for, sir, and how you're related to the patient?"

Related to… ah, I hadn't considered that. Most of my medical or hospital knowledge came from TV. Maybe it really was only family and friends? Friend and employee would have to do. "Jim Sanders. I'm a friend and employee of Jim Sanders, the owner of the bookstore. I was told by police that he's here?"

For a moment she stared into nothing, chewing her cheek before her eyes widened with recognition. "Older guy, caucasian?"

"That sounds like him. He'd leave an impression. Unfailingly polite, but he's got a wicked sense of humor" I said with an actual grin this time. He was here! I felt a small burst of energy enter my body, and for the first time in one of the longest hours of my life, I felt something other than weariness and despair.

The nurse started tapping at the keyboard behind the desk, her eyes scanning the screen in front of her. After a few clicks of the mouse, her body language grew guarded, and she gave me another of her sympathetic smiles "He wasn't conscious when they brought him. I can't say anything as to the specifics of his injuries, but I can see he's in surgery right now. It might take a while before he's out and ready to receive anyone."

In surgery? That didn't sound – no, he'd be fine. "I'll stay. I'll… I can stay and wait, right?"

"You're welcome to take a seat in the waiting area, and I'll note down that you're here to see Mr. Sanders. I can't guarantee how long that'll take though, and depending on the situation, you might need the family's permission. It will probably be hours" she said in a soft voice.

I merely nodded, then cleared my throat "I'd appreciate that. I'll take a seat. Thank you"

"Of course" I got a sad smile, before the nurse turned to the person behind me in the line. I'd hadn't even noticed anyone come up behind me. I walked to the corner of the seating area, finding a chair snug against one of the entrance room walls and sat down. It didn't take long before my head found the wall, and my eyes started to close.

I didn't sleep. Not truly. What I did get was in fits and starts, no more than a few minutes in a row before I had to fend off the pictures, sounds and smells in my mind. It was unsettling how little control I had over what was happening. Like everyone else, I was used to a certain degree of control over my own thoughts. I mean sure, most people slip in and out of daydreaming without actually really focusing on it, and there's the kind of thoughts you have when standing on the edge of something high up and the idea of jumping pops up. But this wasn't some psychological 'call of the void' type thing that's dismissed almost as quickly as it forms. This was more _intrusive_ , like my own mind fighting against me.

I was fidgeting in the chair, trying to force the memories away by sheer force of will, when I heard someone, what sounded like a young man clearing his throat.

"Uhm, I'm sorry to disturb. The nurse at the reception desk told me that you're here for my granddad? For Jim?"

I looked up, trying to shake off the oppressive memories, and saw a neat-looking young man in what looked like a high school uniform – one of the preppy ones that I'd never worn in my life. Probably private or boarding school. Something about his build and his facial structure actually reminded me of Mr. Sanders, wait, he said 'granddad' didn't he? I didn't even know that Mr. Sanders had children, much less grandkids.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's right. I'm Will, Will Putnam." I said, instinctively reaching forwards for a handshake.

He reached out and shook my hand, his hand cold and clammy "Ah. Thomas Sanders, his grandson… but I just said that" he mumbled the latter part to himself while looking at the ground with his eyebrows bunched up.

"I was supposed to start working for Mr. Sanders next week. I've been helping him out in the shop for a while, and been a customer even longer"

Thomas took a couple of breaths, his eyes slightly moist. "I know. My granddad and I talk on the phone every week. He seemed to like you."

"He's a good man" I didn't know what else to say.

He might only have been a few years younger than me, but the difference was clear. He looked like a scared kid, but he was trying his best. "I, uh, I came over because he's out of surgery. He's still heavily sedated, so he won't be able to speak, but I wanted to invite you to say hi to him"

I gave him a tired, but honest smile. "Of course. Thanks for letting me"

He simply nodded, then turned around and started walking towards the elevators where a nurse was waiting. It was a little odd that he was here alone. If he was here, then why wasn't his mom or dad? "Are your parents coming too or?"

"No… no, they're both out of state. Live out of state actually. I'm the only one close by, boarding school, you know? I'm grateful someone else is here though… I don't really know how bad it is. How bad _he_ is. I.. I don't really want to face that alone."

I frowned at that. He was still in high school for crying out loud. Sure, I wasn't much older, but at least I'd be forced to grow up a little by moving out, handling my own bills and responsibilities and such. This, boy really, had none of that, not even a familiar face.

"I'm sorry no one else is here, it can't be easy."

He simply shrugged. The elevator dinged, showing that we'd arrived at the fifth floor and the nurse motioned for us to exit the elevator. Thomas automatically walked out, briefly looking at the room guide on the wall, before turning left.

"It's this way. Room five-oh-eight."

I merely followed until he stopped in front of a wide door with a narrow window. His hand reached for the door before hesitating. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and opened the door. I don't know what I expected, but I was still surprised. Mr. Sanders was lying completely covered on the bed, tubes running between him and various machines in the room. We both stepped closer to the old man. He didn't look well. His skin was sunken and pale, but looked bruised around his eyes. I knew he wasn't exactly young, but his current condition made him look ancient and frail. A far cry from the man I'd gotten to know over the past month. Thomas stepped even closer, hesitantly reaching for one pale and veiny hand. He didn't say anything. He merely stood there looking down at his granddad, as if not quite understanding what had happened.

I pulled over a chair, so the kid could sit down near his granddad. He absently sat down, never releasing the hand. I pulled over another chair, sitting on the opposite side of the old man. I let my head fall into my hands. I felt so tired. This, this was more serious than I'd thought it would be. I was hoping for maybe just some smoke inhalation or something, but this seemed much worse.

"Do you know how the fire started?" a quiet voice asked

I looked up at Sanders' grandkid, shaking my head. "No. I only got there after the fire started. Police and firefighters were already there."

He was still looking at his granddad, not really reacting to my words. "It wasn't an accident, not really" he started.

Not an accident? Did he mean arson or?

He finally looked up at me, anger simmering beneath the surface. "His store was attacked. I don't think it was the target, not that it matters. The police told me that they were in pursuit of a fugitive, and the store caught fire when they tried to catch him. He, the guy they were after, shot it with something. Some beam from his arm or something… he got away, they had to stop to help with there fire."

I froze. This sounded all too familiar. "Did they give you a name?" I asked slowly

He looked back at his granddad. "I, uh, I was pretty distracted. More worried about my granddad. I think it was East European sounding.. Karn.. Karn-something-ski" He shook his head in frustration, a tear running down his cheek.

I had a feeling of nothing. Of complete absence. "Was his name Philip Karnowsky?

Thomas straightened up in the chair, looking me into the eyes with a surprised expression on his face "That's it! That's the name! How did you know?"

And then the emptiness broke. I could feel my hands forming into fists, the muscles of my arms flexing painfully "He's the criminal that almost burned down my university" I spat out.

* * *

I only barely managed to leave the hospital in a civilized manner, my anger almost bubbling to the surface a few times. I did manage a courteous goodbye to Thomas, thanking him for letting me see Mr. Sanders, his granddad, but the rest of my trip out of the hospital and home, was a red haze.

Philip. Fucking. Karnowsky. The man singlehandedly responsible for all of my recent problems and for almost financially ruining me. Oh, I might have been content at sitting on the sidelines before, when I thought either the police or some of the supers would handle him. I was willingly to ignore the smashed car, and they picked him up after the attack on the school. But he had irrevocably changed my life, hell, even my fucking DNA, and now he'd killed. Again. He'd even taken my sanctuary away from me, along with the person who provided it, someone I was starting to consider a friend and who right now was fighting for his life.

I briefly considered, that with the bookstore a burned-out hulk, and Mr. Sanders stuck in the hospital, he'd even managed to rob me of my livelihood.

I threw my sports coat at the wall of my living room, kicking my shoes off shortly after. I knew I needed to do something, anything! I started pacing back and forth, my mind only supplying confused and angry emotions. The pacing didn't help, nothing helped! A lance of pain stopped my pacing, and I looked down at my right hand, still in a fist, knuckles visibly bruised and scraped from the wall I'd just taken a swing at.

I needed to calm down before I smashed something to pieces. I walked into my bedroom, almost automatically plopping down on my bed, when I saw my reflection. Red eyes, soot-stained skin looked back at me. The reflection deflated my anger to a more manageable level; what I needed it seemed, was a shower.

The shower itself wasn't enough to calm me down, but getting the soot and smoke out of my skin and hair, gave me something to focus on. And right now, I needed all the focus and concentration I could muster. I didn't want to lash out again. That… that wasn't me. Once I was out of the shower and had gotten dressed, I had to concentrate so I wouldn't stomp around or hit the wall again. But at least now, I felt like I had that focus. I could keep things in check until I was better. Until I'd had the time to process and get some emotional distance from today.

I didn't even bother trying to pick up a book or turn on the TV. All I did was put on a playlist filled with calm music, and went to bed.

* * *

It took me awhile to calm down enough to actually fall asleep, but when I finally did, I slept the sleep of the dead. I'm honestly not sure how I felt about that. With what I had seen, I fully expected to wake up every twenty minutes, soaked in cold sweat and with my heart almost beating out of my chest. Instead, I slept the entire evening and night away, and I actually felt close to relaxed when I got out of bed. Oh I was still pissed, majorly so, but the edge had been taken off, and my control was back. My mind was my own again, no ambush of pictures and sounds.

While I wasn't quite myself when I decided that I needed to do something about Karnowsky, I still fully agreed with it now. I needed to get off the sidelines. I needed to make sure that he couldn't cause anymore death and misery. He might be a small fry in the world of capes and tights, but he'd so heavily impacted my life, that I couldn't justify leaving him alone.

The problem was, what the hell did I even know about the guy? Sure, I knew his name, I knew he could take a punch what with falling through a building, and I knew his arm-cannon was nothing to scoff at. But he was a career criminal, so he'd probably been doing this for years. I couldn't just look him up in the yellow pages or something like that, and if there was info on him, it probably wasn't available for public consumption. Despite that, I actually tried to Google him, but that only turned up things I already knew, as well as other random crimes dating back more than a decade.

It wasn't till I got to the video sequences online, that I found something I could use. Well maybe. Intergang. A couple of the more recent segments mentioned that Karnowsky was presumably working with or for Intergang, the same group I remember hearing about in the cab. The group that sprung him out during his prison transfer. An individual might be hard to fine, but what about an entire organization? I already knew a little about the group, they'd frequented the news often enough since I got here, mostly in the form of blame and suspicion for a bunch of thefts and violent crimes, and less so in the form of actual arrests. It did provide me with something to go on though. Most of the arrests made that hadn't been on the site of specific crimes, were located in the seedier parts of Metropolis. Well as seedy as Metropolis got. Sure we had crime, but frankly our crime seemed a bit more… sophisticated than the Gotham mob or any the, shall we say, colorful characters heard about in the news. I mean, penguin-guy, seriously? We had characters as well, but in Metropolis they seemed less overt, and weren't the constant pressure that I imagined of Gotham. Judging from Misfit's reaction when she met me, I couldn't be entirely off.

I did find out that there'd been arrests at warehouses by the waterfront several times, but also closer to where I lived, a place of the city where the police wasn't as present, and where you didn't look twice at things falling a bit outside of the ordinary.

I mean, sure, that's technically narrowing the area a little, but as Metropolis is basically one giant shoreline and waterfront centered around three islands, that was only marginally helpful. It'd be easier trying to find something, _anything_ near my own part of town. I'd also have the added bonus of knowing my way around, especially the rooftops.

With at least the shadow of an idea of what to do, I went to my spare room and rummaged around, until I found an old pair of binoculars, a gift from my grandparents when I was a kid. It'd do. I picked up the usual black half mask, and a pair of sunglasses, and found some fairly anonymous dark clothing, in the form of a grey long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of black jeans. I almost left the house, but then I remembered a slight problem. While my powers were pretty amazing for movement and speed, they left a bit to be desired when it came to going on the offensive. I paced around my apartment, ready to move, but not dumb enough to go looking for trouble with nothing to defend myself with. I suddenly stopped, a smile coming to my lips. I went into me bedroom and got to my knees in front of my bed, stretching an arm under the gap between the floor and my bed, until I touched something cold and solid. With a scraping sound, I pulled out a grey aluminum bat. Problem solved.

* * *

Having spent most of a week on various roofs of outer Metropolis, I decided that the problem was decidedly not solved. Knowing that Intergang operated within a fairly large and unknown square-mile radius did very little to actually catch or find anyone. I mean, it's not like they wore uniforms, or had bright neon signs on their hideouts. Besides, unlike me, they actually had experience at this kind of thing.

Seemed like Misfit was partially right. I hadn't been able to stop using my powers, but powers didn't come with some hero-training package. I was essentially still a university student who dressed like a discount ninja and could 'jump' within line of sight. I didn't have a mentor, special training or even any special resources.

How could I change that? If I wanted to get to Karnowsky and Intergang before he killed some other innocent bystander, but I didn't have the knowledge of a detective or the senses of Superman or Supergirl. I didn't have databases or contacts. Hell, I couldn't even pay to win. Okay, think Will, think damnit!

Okay, I had a general area, a rather large one sure, but at least it wasn't the entire city. I had loads of time what with some of my university courses slowing down, and me being out of a job all of a sudden. I also knew the area, and I could move around faster than almost anyone. Right, so who was I looking for? People who looked sketchy? Intergang probably had more experience than that though, they probably wouldn't look like petty criminals, and judging from their breakout of Karnowsky and the tech he had, they also seemed to have resources.

There wasn't even really anyone I could go to for help. The only other super or meta or whatever that I knew, was Misfit, and while she inevitably had more experience than me, she was apparently also from Gotham and only recently arrived. Probably not a whole lot she could help me with, even if another meeting wouldn't just turn into another session of teleporting cat and mouse. No, I was alone, and frankly untrained.

I sat down on the edge of the roof I was on, sighing deeply. It wasn't like I had lost my resolve or anything, but a week spent on a dozen rooftops with no results wasn't exactly productive. Plus, I was starting to feel a little silly about lugging around an aluminum bat.

My week had been a little odd. I was so angry and frustrated the first few days that I was basically 'jumping' around all day long making absolutely no progress. Honestly, I could probably have stumbled over Intergang in that period, and not even noticed it. The next following days, I'd been a bit more focused and collected, even managing to go to class, and throw a bullshit excuse David's way about being sick the previous days. On the bright side, while I'd been less out and looking for Intergang and Karnowsky these past couple of days, I did manage to visit Mr. Sanders again. No progress, though he was apparently mostly out of danger. I also managed to look up Linda on social media, as I didn't have her number. That part was a bust though, as she had no social media presence to speak off, which come to think of it was pretty odd for our age-group, but not really unheard of either.

While not being able to contact her was more annoying than I wanted to admit, at least I knew she was okay. According to the news, there was only one casualty in the bookstore fire, which I was unfortunately intimately familiar with. Fortunately, most people had survived with nothing more than a few scrapes, light burns or smoke inhalation. Of the wounded, Mr. Sanders was the only one still in the hospital.

A vibration in my pocket interrupted my thoughts. It was probably my mom or David, so it wouldn't really be important, but I didn't really have anything better to do right now. I got the phone out of my pocket and unlocked the screen. Hmm. David again. He'd been texting me none-stop for days now. He knew about my lost job, and he knew how much time I spent at the bookstore. I'd even brought him there a few times. This time it was an invite for trip to the cinema – some comedy or something. I knew he was trying to cheer me up, but if I was being entirely honest, I didn't actually want to be cheered up. I wanted to get even.

"I… right?... never…sent… doesn't…. subtlety"

Hm? I looked over the edge of the building I was sitting, down towards the narrow alley running between the two buildings. I picked up my binoculars and looked at the guy walking there. He was a man of average height and build, with dark hair, clean shaven, an off the rack suit and a sturdy breifcase. Nothing too interesting really. I leaned back and put down my binoculars. Yeah, just peeping on random people walking by wasn't doing it. I sat down on the thankfully dry roof, leaning against a silent air-condition unit, the voice getting clearer below me. The hell was I doing?

"Yeah yeah, I picked up the package. Just had to dress up a bit, easier that way y'know?... Yeah, I'm bringing it over. Usual spot."

Well, that wasn't suspiciously vague at all. Maybe this wasn't such a waste of time anyways. I got up as silent as I could, and 'jumped' to the next building so I could follow the conversation. Fortunately, the street lights were mostly intact in this area, and it wouldn't get really dark until another few hours. I crept to the edge of the roof, trying to get as close to the guy several stories below as I could.

"Uh-huh, sure, I'm up for more if you've got something… Yeah, I'll be there in ten."

Seemed like I'd stumbled on a thief and his client or maybe fence or something. Not really what I was looking for, but at least it sort of vindicated my approach of 'jumping' around. Well, almost. If I hadn't been in such a mental haze when I started, maybe I'd have at least tried making a grid-search or something. Should be possible with how fast I could get from place to place, especially on roof tops. Oh well, I could at least follow him to the meet-up and then call the cops on them. The thought actually made me smile. It would be… cathartic to sic the police on some petty criminals - might make for an entertaining show too. I 'jumped' to the next building over, quietly peeking over to find the thief just turning the corner and entering the narrow alley between the two buildings. I kept an eye on him until he stopped all of a sudden. I completely froze, not wanting him to notice me, despite the height of the building making that an awkward angle for him. After stopping, he leaned against the nearest wall, taking a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket and lighting one, all the while looking at the road he just came from. What the hell was he looking for? Was he waiting for someone? No… no, it couldn't be that. He said he was ten minutes out, so why was he wasting time here?

I crept closer to the edge of the building, being careful not to make any noise. I couldn't see anyone else coming, and he was still standing there against the wall, just smoking and looking around for something or someone. Barely two minutes had passed when he shrugged and walked further down the alley at a steady pace. Oh well, whatever he was looking for apparently wasn't coming, and all the better for me. I figured it was easier tailing and keeping out of sight of only one person. I barely made a noise following him, barely even moving from my crouch, instead relying on teleporting from roof to roof, but making no other movement. Thank god I didn't have Misfit's problem of pink bursts of smoke. Though thinking about it, maybe she actually made those on purpose… Not sure what that said about the girl. Still annoyed me how she seemed to be able to home in on me so fast though.

I watched the thief walk at a determined pace, quickly passing through the last parts of the outer residential and industrial area and into the outskirts of even my part of Metropolis. This part of Metropolis looked more like it probably did during its Hunter City period. There was no smooth glass and steel facades out here, but rather dark grays, browns and reds. The area was mostly abandoned, much like the city's original name. It was a remnant of a dirtier and less advanced city. While the area didn't have a ton of buildings, they ones it did have were massive. From what I remembered, this used to be an old warehouse district, and was purpose-built this far out to take advantage of now-shallow inlet, and a maze of rail-road tracks. The district probably employed a good part of Metropolis' erstwhile population. It was also a part of the city that was barely patrolled by the police, for the simple reason that most probably didn't even consider it part of Metropolis anymore, and no one lived this far out anyways. The wealthy suburbs spread out in a ring around Metropolis, in every direction but this one.

I honestly shouldn't have been surprised that this was where the thief was heading. I mean sure, I was probably exaggerating and cops did patrol here, but I sincerely doubted it was as well-monitored as the rest of the city. At least I'd 'jumped' around out here earlier in the week, only spotting some homeless camps and not a whole lot else.

The thief started crossing an empty road, looking intently at the rusty gate of the wire fence running parallel to the road. My caution was soon vindicated when my target quickly turned around, and looked back down the alley he came from, his eyes also scanning the building facades and roofs. I was already mostly covered by the chimney in front of me, so his eyes moved past me with no reaction. Huh, paranoid are we? I mean, sure, there actually was someone on a roof following him, but still, paranoid!

With an odd lack of noise, he swung the rusty gate open, and hurried in. There was really only one destination beyond the tiny security station he was quickly walking past: the massive brick and wood warehouse. The walls were still mostly red, albeit weathered by age, and vandalized with a hundred inane spray tags and half-finished figures. The roof was also in decent shape, good enough for me to 'jump' to at least, which is exactly what I did. Without any transfer of movement or energy, I made it to the roof of the large building with almost no sound, only the slightest creak of settling wood under the roof. Okay, first part complete, now how the hell to get inside the actual building? I crouched on top of the building, walking as carefully as I could towards the raised middle – at least the height would allow me to look at the entire roof. I was pleasantly surprised when I didn't even have to look once I got up to the raised middle, as a couple of small dirty windows appeared right on the other side of the roof. Too small for anyone to consider a problem, too small for any normal person to get through, hell, too small for a cat to get through, but not too small for me. Sneaking over, I softly pushed some leafs to the side, and peeked in. Ah, there we go! I saw the thief walking to a table in the middle of the cavernous empty hall beneath me, putting down the briefcase, and leaning against the table, obviously waiting for someone.

Hmm... While I could see him easily enough, at least as long as he didn't walk underneath any of the catwalks above him, I couldn't hear anything at all. I was debating teleporting to one of the catwalks when the choice was made for me. Three men walked into the warehouse and stopped right at the edge of my sight. The two guys walking ahead were both built like linebackers, and in their dark pants and tight black shirts reminded me of some of those no-neck bouncers I'd seen at popular bars. Definitely goon material. The third and much slimmer guy however, walked in with a bit of a swagger to his gait, and was dressed in a black turtle-neck under a sports coat and wore sunglasses. Seriously? He was inside, and it was dark enough outside for the streetlights to be on… what a douche.

The two goons in front were looking intently around the inside of the building, both up and down before continuing to the thief at the table. Well, they were cautious at least – probably a good thing that I wasn't conveniently sitting on the catwalks above them. The thing was, this didn't look like any sort of permanent base at all – just a random, albeit pre-prepared drop off point.

So the question was, if I was going to call the cops, when did I want to do it? While the thief and the client or buyer or whoever were both there? Or did I follow the new guy and his goons to their lair. Okay, ease up on the drama Will; their base, hideout or whatever. I looked down the tiny and dirty roof-window again seeing the thief and the new guy shaking hands before leaving in opposite directions. Shit! Okay, the thief didn't even have the goods anymore, and besides, people with goons had to be more important than one ordinary looking thief.

Decision made, I silently crept away from the window and 'jumped' to the edge of the roof, where I'd be able to follow the goon-squad. Fortunately, they seemed much less wary now that they were out of the warehouse and on the move. One problem though, they were walking straight towards a newer model SUV. I'd never actually followed a car before. I mean, I definitely had the speed to outpace a car, by a good margin even, but I'd never had to track something going that fast. Shit, guess it was a day for firsts.

Taking a deep breath, shaking my hands and crouching a bit, like I was about to start a sprint, I 'jumped' to a roof that would parallel the toad the car would have to take. The whole exercise of following a car driving around 40 mph wasn't as bad as it could have been. Keeping ahead of the car was easy as could be, but I was fairly certain that my concentration would be strained to the breaking point, if I had to keep up this speed while also picking out a specific car in full traffic. Fortunately, there was barely any traffic to contend with right now, so aside from stepping in a roof-top puddle and almost getting stuck in an old TV-antenna, I followed the car just fine. That is, until the car took a sharp right turn, driving into the lot of the building I was currently standing on. Crap, might've gotten a small case of tunnel vision there. Shit, whatever. I was here… wherever here turned out to be.

Much like the hand-off building where I started tailing the buyer and his goons, this was an old but robust, warehouse, albeit smaller than the other one. This one also seemed to be in better overall shape, with more soot-stained brick, but less worn and cracked wood. The façade even had one of those old-fashioned outdoor cargo pulleys leading from the base to the top. Might've been handy once, but I sort of doubted that these criminals were dumb enough to hoist stolen goods around were everyone could see it. Fortunately for me, that probably also meant that no one would be anywhere near roof-height. One thing remained a constant from the last warehouse to this one, and that was the small sets of dirty and crooked windows on the roofs. Not sure if they were for ventilation or light originally, but they were handy for someone who only needed line of sight to get in. I slowly sneaked over to one of them missing most of the actual window, figuring it'd be easier checking out the place without actually 'jumping' down there. I leaned down, putting my ear near the edge of the broken window, hearing voices speak from below me.

"…anything on the cameras?" There were cameras? Fuck! I tried to contain the little stab of panic, and quietly looked around on the roof near me. Yes, yes there were cameras; in fact, there was an unholy amount of small detachable cameras scattered around the roof, all looking towards the nearby roofs and streets, but none of them looking inwards.

"Naw, it's all clear. No unwanted guests s'far as I can see". Huh. I might have accidently gotten past their perimeter without either me or them noticing… nice to know that my luck could be something other than bad. Go team Putnam! After figuring out that the cameras wouldn't be able see me from my perch at the window, I grabbed the clunky bird-watching binoculars from around my neck to get a closer look at the operation. There were crates stacked here and there, most of them closed and wearing logos on their sides that wasn't familiar to me at all. Might just be random stuff, or it might be for cover or repacking purposes. Frankly, I had no clue. What I did notice was the text and logo on the side of the metal briefcase that the goon leader I'd been following just slid over a desk by the wall. It said Kord Industries in a bold blue color. Oh. Stealing from Kord was bad. Like STAR Labs or Wayne Enterprises bad. This might not be as street-level as I imagined it was. They had surveillance, muscle and even special practices for shaking potential followers. It'd bugged me a little at first, but now it made sense why the car I'd followed had taken such an odd and circuitous route – it was trying to shake any potential tails. Hell, with that whole surveillance station in the corner of the building, they were probably told when it was safe to drive to the base.

This… was a little more than I'd bargained for. I needed to get a little distance, and then call the cops. They needed to send a serious response, not just a couple of uniforms in a patrol car. I grabbed the cell phone from my pocket, just about to enter the digits when I hesitated. Could they track my phone if I called them? Figure out who I was? Damnit, crime shows so did not prepare you for the real deal! Okay, wait. I was in one of the older areas of Metropolis, and what did the older areas have aside from spotty phone signals and dilapidated buildings? Payphones, that's fucking what… or so I hoped.

I decided to go online and to see if I couldn't track down some payphones, only to be met with several news headlines about how the last couple of payphones had been replaced with internet hotspots a few years back. Well shit. Never thought technological development would bite me in the ass like that. Okay, Will, come on, you can figure this shit out. So I couldn't use my own phone, probably, but that didn't mean I couldn't use someone else's, like say, a landline from a nearby building. Fuck it, it'd have to do.

Wary of the cameras and their coverage, I decided to 'jump' as far as I could, after noting down the address from my phones GPS. Fortunately, it didn't take me too long to find a building that still had lights on, indicating that power was at least still going, and power meant landlines.

I teleported into a kitchen across from the building I'd been sitting on, noting that the leftover food on the plates in the sink hadn't grown moldy, so someone probably lived here, though it looked like they weren't home. Unfortunately, it took me another 5 apartments before I found someone with and honest to goodness landline. I really needed to add a burner phone to my repertoire it seemed. Checking the apartment as silently and carefully as I could, I found no one to disturb me, aside from a couple of goldfish on a living room side-table. Good enough.

I picked up the phone, dialing nine-one-one, only waiting a few beeps before a tired but authoritative female voice came through

"nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"

Okay, I needed a fully armed response, or someone was liable to get hurt, so I might have to… embellish the truth a little. For everyone's good of course.

"Uh, hi. I walked past one of the older warehouses out by the river, you know, out by the old Hunter City warehouse district?"

"Sir, can you confirm the address and what warehouse unit you're referring to?"

"Of course, uhm, unit seven out on De Vries Avenue, ma'am"

She asked me to confirm the address, which I did immediately.

"Okay sir, what's the nature of your emergency?"

"Well I walked past, and I heard screams from the warehouse ma'am, and there seemed to be armed people standing guard. I hurried away from there as fast as I could."

"Sir, I need you to be very clear right now, can you confirm that the people you saw were armed?"

"Yes, definitely armed. Several of them."

"Sir, this might be important, how many did you see?"

"I only saw three or four outside the warehouse, but the screams came from within, so probably more, right?"

"And the scream, can you tell me anything about that sir?"

"Well, it was-"I briefly wondered if making it a woman or a child or something you improve the response. "- a woman I think, I mean the tone was light, you know?"

"Okay, keep calm sir, we're dispatching an armed response unit. Please stay away from the address you provided. Sir, can I ask your name?"

Ugh. Nope. No, you cannot.

"Of course, I'll stay put, hurry up" I stated, the nervousness coloring my voice entirely natural, before I hung up and got back to the warehouse in a series of 'jumps', this time deliberately avoiding the surveillance cameras.


	6. Chapter 6 - Choices

**Right, so the last chapter of the my envisioned intro. Slighter shorter, but that's why you get it after a week and not two. Next chapter will be two weeks from now, and hopefully I'll manage to keep it to a chapter every two weeks. If not, I'll let people know.**

 **I've got some ideas for arcs going forwards, but I've only really fleshed out the coming one, and as such I have no idea how long this will end up being. Ideas, comments, PM's or whatever are welcome.**

 **Have fun.**

 **Chapter 6 - Choices**

I sat quietly on the roof, making sure that I was far enough back to be out of sight from the street. Didn't want the cops seeing me, and thinking I was involved or a scout or something. Sitting on an old tile roof was less than amazing though. I mean, people hardly ever spend a lot of time cleaning roofs when people are still living there, but abandoned buildings? I was lucky I hadn't slipped off the gabled roof, as it was damn near covered in green gunk from a couple of decades of neglect. Keeping myself from falling off the building, meant staying close enough to the tiny roof-window, which was probably the only reason why I heard the first sign that things wouldn't go quite as I had wanted.

"Guys! Listen up, the pigs are on their way, armed response it sounds like, we need to leave, right fucking now!"

I heard another voice but in, speaking in a harsh and authoritative tone "We are not leaving. We've got too much stocked in this warehouse. Call back-up, right now. We need a heavy hitter and an open boomtube. Now. Get to it!"

"Oh, sure boss. Got it!"

I looked over the edge of the window, in time to see the first voice run back to the surveillance and apparently communication station in the corner, quickly picking up a phone. I only observed him long enough for the second voice, the boss apparently, to speak up again. "I want two people on the windows towards the street, and one taking care of the back of the building. Call in what you see. The rest of you, pack everything you can. Make sure you pile things up so that it can get through a boomtube. Go!"

Fuck. They were a lot more organized than I'd given them credit for, and what the hell was that about 'boomtubes' and 'heavy hitters'? I sincerely hoped the cops had taken my warning seriously, and sent some actual, I don't know, SWAT or something. Sure seemed like they might need it with this bunch.

I was expecting sirens, but instead I only saw blinking lights in the distance. I suppose that made sense – didn't want to advertise that they were coming, though if they didn't kill the lightshow soon, that advantage would be out the window. Unlike the cops though, I already knew they didn't have the element of surprise at all, this group was prepared. I turned back to the rooftop window right as a lightshow started inside, almost causing me to yelp in surprise. Holy shit! Out of a tunnel of… well light, a couple more goons stepped out, pushing hovering carts. I guess they were serious about getting most of the crates and boxes out of here, and with access to a goddamn teleporting lightshow, I could kinda see why they would be.

From the roof, I could hear the sounds of vans and police cruisers pulling up, and chatter picking up from within the building, most notably "they're here!", "pigs!" or "hurry the fuck up!". I'd look over to see exactly how many officers they'd sent, but I couldn't risk poking my head over the rooftop and get spotted. Hmm… with the gang being distracted by the police however, who said I couldn't be a little proactive in cleaning up after super-disasters?

I mean, I bet someone out there would pay money for some of the stuff they'd stolen, and with the police here, a fight was bound to happen, and if the fight got too extreme, one of Metropolis' supers would probably jump in to get some nice and easy PR. Okay, maybe that was a little unfair, but this is kinda their shtick, so if I happened to relieve the criminals of some harmless 'souvenirs' while the fight was still on, it wouldn't be too different would it?... okay so maybe it'd be toeing the line, but at least I wouldn't be crossing it. Promise.

Earlier on, I noticed that there were several partial floors for storage above the full ground floor, probably meant to be accessed by a pulley-based elevator in the middle. Fortunately, I only needed line of sight to teleport and to touch whatever object I wanted to bring. And there happened to be this one particularly nice looking box that I'm pretty sure was out of sight of the oddly competent goon-squad. Besides, while there were plenty of them milling around on the huge ground floor, I'd yet to spot a single one of them walk up the narrow stairways to the partial floors. Couldn't blame them though, as far as I could see, the only way to the partial floors on was down and up, so unless they needed something specific, why bother?

I 'jumped' to the large plastic crate, quickly dismissing the idea of opening it up here - didn't want to attract attention from the people already on a hair trigger. Fuck it, something is better than nothing. Now the only concern was how much this thing weighed. I'd already found out that while it expended more energy per jump, I could teleport things larger and heavier than myself if I touched and focused on the object before doing a 'jump'. Fortunately, this crate seemed within my tested limit, and there was a window on the far side of the little semi-floor, so I actually had a direct view to the roof across from me. With a slightly self-satisfied smile on my face I embraced the pulling sensation and felt unyielding stone under my feet were before I felt the slight give of wood. I took a deep breath of the evening air, feeling a mighty satisfied with myself. I got some souvenirs and ratted out a bunch of high-tech criminals to the cops. All in a good days work.

I turned around and teleported back to the roof of the warehouse, still avoiding the cameras. They might be distracted by the police pulling up outside, but I didn't want to give them another target to shoot at, especially not if that target was me. I crouched by the small broken window again so I could have a birds-eyes-view of the interior, and maybe find another box with my name on it. Didn't take me long to find another crate I could liberate and 'jump' to window, but right when my feet touched the wood floor, the frantic talking and shouting in the background grew to new levels, until it was pierced staccato sounds gunfire.

The sound of glass breaking and brick being pounded instinctively made me huddle behind the large plastic box that I'd just jumped to the window overlooking the street. I stayed there, keeping my head down, while the shouting kept going, sometimes interrupted by a high-pitched scream of pain or surprise. Fortunately, the shooting against the building was controlled enough, that the bullets didn't seem to be aimed above ground level, but I was already much closer to the action than I wanted to be. Stupid! Greedy! I should've left with the one damn box and called it a night, this shit wasn't worth getting killed over!

Staying close to the wooden floor, I tried to get my heart rate and breathing under control. Couldn't panic now, wouldn't end well. Following a bunch of flinching and shaking as what sounded like a small war being waged below me, I finally managed enough focus to touch the box and focus on the roof across the street. Right before the pulling sensation sent me to the other roof, I noticed a bright light through the floorboards I was sitting on.

I stumbled out of my crouching position, quickly going prone and crawling over the cold cement to the edge of the roof facing the warehouse. At five stories, I had a great vantage point of a heavily armed and armored group of police officers laying down suppressive fire against the building façade, while a cluster of officers were standing huddled at the door. A smile smirk settled on my face, seems like the goons were running out of luck.

Okay, so while not really a perfect showing, I did manage to- with an odd mechanical whine, the doorway of the warehouse and the officers stacked in front of it vanished in an angry orange beam of light. I had to cover my eyes and sink back beneath the edge of the roof. What the hell was that?! No one in there looked to be armed with fucking artillery! I could hear screaming and shouts intermixed with falling rubble and the smell of burning rubber. I rubbed at my eyes, trying to get the dark spots away, before raising my head over the edge again, and looked down into a scene out of war movie. One of the large SWAT vans had been turned on its side, black smoke rising from it, and most the side laid open in a long gash. I could still see the tell-tale muzzle flashes coming from both the warehouse and the officers hiding between the other van and cruisers, though it was far more sporadic now.

Of the doorway, there was little left but a circular gap where a door used to be, bricks falling liberally on all sides of it. At first, I thought the officers at the doors had been vaporized or something, but I could see movement within the cloud of broken rubble that covered the direction of the huge beam. I didn't know how that was even possible given the magnitude of the blast. Maybe they'd jumped to the side and were spared the worst of the beam, or maybe they had a lot better equipment than I'd thought. I had a feeling there should've been more movement however. Maybe everyone wasn't as lucky enough to still be moving around. The thought chilled me. If I had reported it differently, or not at all, would anyone have gotten hurt then? I quickly bit down on that thought. They were all armed, they were criminals and they could apparently throw artillery level munitions around. Of course someone would've gotten fucking hurt. I did provoke this specific event. I was to blame, partially if nothing else.

I looked around, trying to see if there was something I could do, when a large man covered in a metallic armor and a flexible tube of an arm walked out of the dust and debris of the doorway.

"Get the last of it loaded and ready for a boomtube, or you'll answer to Whisper! Go! I'll take care of our visitors." The angry voice turned almost gleeful at the tail end.

There was no mistaking who I was looking at. Karnowsky, Barrage, was here, and he'd just lived up to his name. Fuck… Barrage meant Intergang, so if he was here, the people I'd been tailing were probably Intergang too. These were people who had no compunctions about killing cops the last time I heard about them, and who had technology that I'd never even heard about before. Their involvement would more than explain those glowing boomtube tunnels and the floating cargo transport things they sent.

I could feel the shaking off my hands turning from fear to anger. There was no crippling red haze this time, but there was frustration and fury in spades, though it was tempered by reality. This wasn't me freaking out in the aftermath of one of his attacks. This was me, here and now in the present, with a walking artillery piece who out-experienced me be years if not decades. I wanted to act, no, I _needed_ to act, but I couldn't bum-rush someone like that. Nothing without either getting killed or getting someone else killed. Breath Will. Cooler heads and all that.

I got a hold on my emotions and tried to figure out what I could actually do. I had very little combat experience, but I'd be lying if I hadn't thought about how to hurt someone like barrage if I needed to. The problem wasn't really a lack of options, it was one of practice. I might have ideas aplenty, but I'd never actually tested any of them. I hadn't even tried teleporting with anything but objects before, so I had no clue if I could even bring people with me. I sincerely hoped that I could, otherwise my primary usefulness right now might be severely limited. Deep breaths, Will, deep breaths. Maybe I could try to get some of the officers out of here, especially some of the ones already down.

I saw Barrage weathering the small-arms fire with very little concern, simply walking through it like leafs on a windy day. He wasn't walking aimlessly though, he seemed intent on the smoking van, even ignoring the small-arms fire concentrated from behind the cover of one of the cruisers. A glow ignited at the end of his arm-cannon, a whine building in concert with the glow, before being released in a pulse of orange that pushed the smoking SWAT van up against the building across the road. I couldn't figure out the purpose before I heard the scream of pain. A lone heavily armored, but battered, officer was pinned between the wall and the roof of the overturned van. Between the damaged van and the smoke rising from it, I hadn't even noticed him.

Barrage was still walking towards the van at a steady pace, and this time I had all too good of an idea of what he'd do. I wasn't the only one to pick up on Barrage's intentions though. The gunfire from behind the remaining van and the cruisers started picking up rapidly, though it didn't seem to make a difference before one of the SWAT guys threw some kind of grenade at Barrage. With a quick a smooth motion, Barrage spun on his axis, going down on one knee and raising his arm, a quick flash of orange and a whine sounded. Nothing landed near Barrage. No sounds of metal hitting asphalt or any explosions. The only indication of anything having happened, was a tiny speck of smoke dispersing between Barrage and the clustered officers.

A sense of disbelief spread among the officers, before the gunfire picked up among cries into radios about backup. I even heard a few shouts asking for Superman or Supergirl. I couldn't blame them. They should've been here, shouldn't they? This is what they were supposed to do, wasn't it?

I almost ran there and then. Had I been less affected by what was happening, I probably would have. But I couldn't just stand by and watch while Barrage destroyed another person's life… another family's life. With an odd sense of purpose and clarity, like looking back at a decision already made, I touched one of the two large crates, waiting for Barrage to stand still. I didn't have to wait long. When he stepped around the corner of the downed van, he didn't waste any time with words, he simply aimed his arm at the pinned officer, the whine and orange glow starting to build. I didn't give him the chance the finish.

Timing my port, I 'dragged' the large heavy duty plastic box with me to a point twenty feet above Barrage, and then let it plummet. One second, Barrage was standing with one arm raised, a menacing orange glow coming from the tube-like cannon, the next a cloud of dust and debris enveloped his immediate area, with a loud crash. Mid-fall, I managed to teleport to the officer struggling to get free of the van, grabbing hold of one arm and teleported further down the street, behind the rest of the officers. I looked down, feeling a building sense of dread. I'd never 'pulled' something living with me. I prayed that I hadn't just replaced one way of dying with another. The arm pulled away from me before I got the chance to check myself.

"Urk! Wha- hell, the fuck happened?" a gruff voice coughed

Oh thank whatever governed the laws of metagene-bullshittery.

I let the officer pull back from me, totally understanding his reaction. I'd almost pissed myself the first time I teleported, so I didn't hold him against it.

I only stayed long enough to give him a warning, my voice hurried and clipped "You guys need to call in backup or retreat!"

"Wha-"was all I heard before teleporting back to the roof. I wasn't under any illusion that a guy who could take a punch from Supergirl or fall through a building would go down from one measly box. Hurt him? Sure. Stop him? Doubtful.

The smoke from the overturned van, along with the dust from blasted bricks and whatever the crate had contained, made it hard for me to see how much damage I'd managed to do. At least the shooting from the warehouse had stopped, the goons no doubt busy carrying out Barrage's last order, on pain of punishment from some 'Whisper' character.

Rookie mistake I guess, but it only took me turning my head towards the warehouse for an orange beam to pierce the cover of dust and smoke, slamming straight into the building I was sitting on and gouging out half a floor. Fortunately he'd aimed to low, and the building was too robust to simply fall apart. It did beg the question of what would've happened if he did manage to hit in the right direction. Would my case of involuntary spatial displacement kick in fast enough, or would I get cooked? I wasn't really in a hurry to find out, but the cops weren't moving fast enough. They were obviously trying to crawl into the van, probably to retreat out of range or wait for back-up. A steady pouring of suppressive fire struck Barrage, briefly making him lift an arm in defense. He looked a little groggy after my gravity-enhanced present, but as long as he could shoot that arm of his, they were in big trouble.

They only just managed to get into the van and turn on the engine, when Barrage turned around, blasting wildly in the direction of the glaring headlights and the sound of the engine. The first couple of blasts ruined another two buildings, while the third clipped a police cruiser, sending it screeching back and slamming into the two officers hiding behind it. The last and largest shot preceded by an aggressive whining sound blew straight through the front of the van, killing the engine in a display of fire and smoke. Shit, they needed time to get away, and without one of the vans, that was time they didn't currently have.

I froze, my mouth going dry, and my nose chocked with smell of burning rubber and powdered brick. I didn't have any weapons, and what had already been used against Barrage didn't seem to make much of a difference. The only thing that had actually made an impact so far, was the large heavy-duty storage crate I'd dumped on him from twenty feet up. But that was a feat only possible because he was distracted and standing still. I sort of doubted he'd afford me that opportunity again.

That didn't mean I could just stand around and watch him take his anger out on the immobilized and battered cops. Frankly, after demolishing parts of three buildings he'd only added to my already intense dislike of him. Asshole was impervious to bullets, at least with his metal suit on, and getting in some more gravity assisted blunt force trauma seemed pretty dicey given his reaction speed. I wished I could've just grabbed the van and teleported away with that, but I already knew that would be overreaching. I _might_ be able to move one of the cruisers a short distance, but I sure as hell wasn't moving a van three times the size and weight. Fuck, less thinking more doing. I needed to distract Barrage and at least give the police a chance to get clear before he opened up with his cannon again.

Grabbing the aluminum bat by the handle peeking out of my backpack, I teleported to a building with a view of Barrage's back, and then ported again, landing right behind him completely silently. By the time my perspective changed from my position on the roof to the back of his head, I was already winding up with the bat, releasing it only a second or two later with a deep clang of metal on metal. Barrage stumbled forwards, momentarily out of balance, but neither injured or in pain, so I wasn't interested in trying my luck with another strike of the bat. I turned around and teleported further down the street and away from any immediate reprisal. Come on big guy, eyes this direction!

Turning around, his eyes narrowed behind the transparent visor of his helmet, Barrage took a step toward me, the whining sound I recognized from the cannon charging present, though the cannon was still pointed towards the ground.

"The fuck are you supposed to be? Piss off on home while you still can" Barrage grunted menacingly

That's a good question. Still didn't have a moniker, and I honestly didn't feel like I needed one, but keeping him talking meant buying time, and time was precious right about now.

"Me? I'm the same as everything else you leave behind whenever you walk out the fucking door Phil. I'm nothing but more collateral damage trailing in your wake" I stated, fury making my voice shake, arms spread wide towards the chaos around us.

Barrage's posture changed, his feet wider and his shoulders bunched up, his one visible hand twitching, like he was strangling someone. "You don't fucking know me kid. And if you call me anything other than Barrage one more time, you'll be leaving this place in an urn"

I still wasn't sure how big of a chance there actually was of him hurting me before I could teleport away, but I wasn't particularly curious about finding out either. My plan of keeping his attention without antagonizing him any further died when one of the retreating SWAT guys stumbled over a broken piece of a car door, making Barrage turn around and immediately point his cannon at the sound. Shit!

"Hey Phil, I wasn't do-"I never got the rest of my taunt out as my target spun on his axis again, bringing a fully charged, almost cherry red beam the size of a truck blasting straight towards me. I only saw the color red and felt incredible heat on my skin, before I was pulled away by my powers. I never would have been able to react that fast myself. Goddamnit why aren't any of the heroes showing up! I'm not supposed to fight super-powered criminals! I Ugh.. I didn't feel so fresh… I stumbled forwards, falling to my knees. Looking at my dark shirt, I could see actual smoke wafting off my sleeves, and it felt like someone had just repeatedly kicked me in my stomach. I sank further down, trying to pull in more air. That was too damn close. Wiping some sweat off my forehead, I gingerly took my polarized skiing goggles off, trying to get some of the dust and smoke off. Damn, without the polarization Barrage might have blinded me entirely.

I looked around the empty floor I had wound up inside. It was dark. The only reason I could even see anything, was due to the glare of streetlights outside, shining through the haphazardly boarded windows. The rest of the floor was just a mix of random detritus and cables sticking out of floors and walls. Judging from the smell of the stale air, no one had been here in a good long while. At least I hadn't ended up in the middle of someone's apartment.

I crawled a few feet forwards, before finally pushing myself up, stumbling towards the boarded-up windows nearby. Tearing down the few boards covering the window expended a lot more energy than I felt it should… I was getting tired. Several instinctive teleports, and a couple with more weight than I'd ever tried before had already given my powers a decent workout, but I wasn't nearly done yet.

Through the now clear window, I could see the streets down below, but not the warehouse, flashing lights or smoke of the fight. Shit! There'd be no one to stop Barrage if I didn't get back quickly! I 'jumped' to the road below, quickly trying to orient myself, when I heard the sound of gunfire from further down one of the streets to my right. I ported to the closest roof, following the sound of gunfire until I found myself standing in front of the box I'd transported before shit had clogged the damn fan.

The gunfire was easy to follow. The cops were still pouring a steady amount of fire at Barrage who seemed to be further away from them than before. Maybe they'd gotten in a lucky shot, or me disappearing had confused him? I noticed a kind of buzzing sound, not like a fly or radio static, more like… helicopter rotors! I turned around, still in cover behind the box I'd transported, and looked at a MPD helicopter eating up the distance to the warehouse. I was about to raise my binoculars when my hands met nothing but air. Goddamn figures. Must have fallen out of my bag at some time during my jumps or my brief scuffle with Barrage.

I focused on the chopper and found that it looked… exactly like any other commercial helicopter, just with MPD stamped on the side, and a cone of light coming from a spotlight under the front end. What good would a chopper do if it didn't have any armaments? It's not like we had any difficulty finding Barrage – you just had to follow the angry orange lightshow for crying out loud. I didn't get the point until I saw something long and dark peeking out of the passenger compartment. It sort of looked like a… oh. The chopper roared above me, the downdraft almost flattening my hair, when it turned to its side, the passenger leaning out. A deep roar and a flash of flame sent Barrage stumbling on to his hands and knees. Another roar of the high caliber sniper followed the first, forcing Barrage to pull his arms up to cover his face, still on his knees.

From my vantage point, I managed to see the last of the police officers still on their feet get around the corner to the next street, and into relative safety. Hopefully that meant he had nothing left to shoot at. Moreover if a chopper had arrived, than more back-up was bound to be here soon, along with ambulances and more.

Almost done Will. Keep it together. A fault in the plan became fairly apparent when the sniper had to reload. Barrage had been waiting for a chance to lash out, and the lull in the shooting provided just that. Rolling with the last bullet, Barrage got back up on one knee, the glow of his arm-cannon already increasing, and the mechanical whining sound cutting through even the sound of the helicopters rotors. Time seemed to slow down, and I just knew what was coming. He'd let of a blast and the chopper would go down, only if the blast didn't kill the crew, the crash probably would. No! No damnit! I'd put myself on the line too much for that asshole to pull an easy win now! I was owed some fucking payback! Sanders was owed some packback!

Right when the orange glow of the cannon started transitioning to the cherry red that I'd experienced firsthand, I 'jumped'. Between one second and the next, I went from being crouched on the roof of a gutted building, to standing right behind Barrage. It only took another half second for my right arm to snake around the throat of his armor. It took even less than for me to look up and embrace the pull.

The next I knew an angry beam of red was rushing from right in front of me, and across the evening sky. This beam wouldn't set fire to a building, kill police officers or gut a car, the only thing it would hit before dispersing was air.

"Hrk! What-" a panicky voice came from the man in front of me, barely noticeable from the sound of rushing air.

A smiled a cold smile that Barrage would never see. "Have fun going down Phil".

I pushed Barrage away from me, using the momentum to reorient myself and spot a roof several hundred feet below me. One perk of my power, was that it didn't seem to transfer anything other than me. No momentum or anything. It was the only reason why I'd survive this. Probably. I still couldn't help but instinctively spreading my arms and legs, trying to create more drag, before I teleported back, which resulted in me dropping out of my teleport a good ten inches above the roof and then belly flopping the rest of the distance.

"Oof! Hng.." I curled up in a ball, briefly focusing on nothing but trying to get air in my lungs, while nursing the no doubt forthcoming bruises around my eyes. God, those goggles had just been jammed into my face, scratching them up in the process, not that I'd be able to see the difference with the tears of pain slipping out.

I'd barely gotten on my feet again, when I remembered Barrage. I stumbled forwards, looking up into the darkening sky, when I noticed an orange glow connected to a quickly descending shape. I wiped the last couple of tears of my face, smiling a little. The pain was worth it.

With a last flash of orange, Barrage fell out of my view only being replaced by the horrendous sound of metal hitting rock at what sounded like terminal velocity. Sound aside, it wasn't particularly dramatic from where I was standing. No explosions. No great plumes of smoke. I didn't mind. I'd had enough of fire and smoke.

Stepping out of a small chain of 'jumps', my breath heavy and slow, I saw Barrage lying in the wreck of the van he'd ruined only minutes earlier. Seemed poetic. I was about the step away, when a battered, but still armored, Barrage rolled out of the wreck, his arm-cannon spitting sparks, and bent at an odd angle.

How the hell was he still standing? Where did I have to drop him from, or what did I have to hit him with, for him to stay down?! My frustration pierced right through my exhaustion. I looked at the police cruiser he'd shot up earlier. What indeed. I jumped to the roof of the wrecked cruiser, looking at Barrage. If this worked, I wasn't sure what would happen. I wasn't sure I'd be able to get back up. But desperate measures.

"Hey Phil!" I shouted at the criminal

He turned, surprise, and maybe a little fear, clear on his face.

"Leave me alone! Fuck! Do you have any idea who you're mess-"

I didn't give him the chance to finish. I pulled the metaphorical tether of my power. I grit my teeth, having to tear through a sense of resistance that I'd never faced before. And then the car I was on, tore out of the air above Barrage, pummeling him to the ground and trapping him under its bulk. He might be durable with that armor, but with the shape of his arm-cannon, he wasn't moving any cars.

I rolled off the roof of the car, landing on my hands and knees, panting like a wounded animal. My vision came back blurry and filled with black spots and there was a metallic taste lingering in my mouth. I staggered to my feet, swaying like a drunk, before finally straightening entirely. I was so done with this shit. I managed to take another few steps, before a rush of police vans and cruisers screeched around the corner, lights blazing and sirens running. They came to a stop a dozen or so yards from me, officers spilling out of the cars and vans. More guns than I could readily count were instantly aimed at me. Through my mental haze, it seemed sort of unfair.

A few variations of "On your hands and knees!" were shouted at me from two genders and at least half a dozen throats. Yeah, this was way unfair.

I looked up when the helicopter from before, drifted over the roofs, the spotlight aimed at me and the wrecked car I was kneeling in front of. A short-haired blonde woman in a fancy armored vest of some kind stepped around the group of officers, her own pistol drawn, but lowered.

Her stern voice, forced me to look up at her "Where's your compatriots? Where's Karnowsky?"

I was about the answer we both heard a pitiful groan from under the ruined car. I figured that was my cue to explain before the shooting started again.

"You mean Barrage? I buried him under one of your cars. Seemed the least I could do after he wrecked it."

She stared at me, her facial expression not changing in the slightest from the frown she'd worn since stepping forwards. "Explain."

One of the wounded officers, dragging his left leg, pushed his way in front of the gathered officers, and spoke up in a clear but pained voice.

"Sawyer, he's not with Intergang. I don't know who he is, but he's probably the reason why most of us are still walking."

Well that was nice. Now if only they would stop aiming a bajillion guns at me, maybe my heart would give up trying to escape from my chest.

Her eyes narrowed. She was about to speak up when a scratchy sound came from her a radio on her belt. She turned around and picked up the radio, a conversation happening that I couldn't hear. Midways through, she turned around, looking up at the circling helicopter and then back at me.

Sawyer, apparently, let out an explosive sigh, and then walked towards me.

"I've heard you did a lot of good here? Maybe even saved some of my officers and my chopper? That right?"

Uhm, guns though. Like, a lot of them.

"Could uh, could you maybe have them not aim an army's worth of guns at me?" I asked, my voice wavering noticeably.

She only nodded and raised a hand over her shoulder, making a couple of signals, before most of the officers started surrounding the car Barrage was under instead of me. She didn't move, only staring expectantly at me.

Oh, right. The question.

"I did what I could… ma'am. I'm… this isn't really my thing, you know?"

"Regardless, you probably saved lives today. Do you need any medical attention?"

"I uh, I think I'm good. Just a few bruises."

"Good. What do we call you?"

Damnit, not with the nom de guerres again. Really should've thought this through.

"Don't have one… I'm sorta just collateral damage"

"Collateral it is. On behalf of the department, you have our thanks."

Collateral, really? Fuck it, at least I didn't have to stand around and stutter the next time something came up.

"Sure, okay. You're welcome. Barrage is a shithead."

Her left eyebrow raised a little at my choice of words, but the beginnings of a smile was also present on her face.

I didn't like the silence, and it kinda bothered me that they were only checking out the area around the car where I could still hear Barrage groaning. "Why aren't you checking the warehouse? There was a whole group in there a short while ago"

She answered with a tight shake of her head "No. Our chopper is equipped with thermals, the warehouse is empty."

"Oh. Okay." Well shit. I mean, no goons getting arrested sucked, but as long as they got Barrage, I hardly cared.

I hesitated a bit, before asking Sawyer "Can I just, you know, just leave now or?"

"You can leave. I'm not in the habit of looking a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, generally speaking it's hard trying to pull in a super for debriefing. But don't you worry, you're on our radar now."

"And you're on mine" I answered on autopilot… wait, what did I just say?

Her eyes narrowed dangerously at me "Excuse me?"

Jesus Christ Will you utter moron! Okay, I could still salvage this. Just, breath, and relax and…. Agh! Fucking tick in my eye! My eyes widened. Crap, that could be taken the wrong wa-.

"Did you seriously just wink at me?" menace thick in her voice.

"Pfff, naaw!"

Her yes tightened even more.

"Maybe?"

Now her jaw muscles got in on the action. Shit.

"Definitely no. Didn't happen. Have fun getting Phil out from under the car" I swear to god, I saw her reach for her sidearm and that's the only reason why I teleported. Honest. It had nothing to do with my idiotic rambling. I ended up on a roof in the opposite direction of my box, but if I had to turn my head when I said that, it wouldn't look nearly as awesome. And I did feel a little awesome. Not heroics awesome, but I definitely felt sweet, sweet revenge awesome.

 **Epilogue Scene**

It'd been a few weeks since my clash with Barrage, and my introduction of Metropolis' finest. Mostly I had tried to settle back into a normal rhythm, focusing more on school, friends and looking for a new job. University was fine, though I had to fake the flu to give enough time for the bruises on my face to heal. I'd even given in to David's nagging and gone out for drinks with a group of people from my classes. It was… fine. It wasn't bad, but little as I wanted to admit it, something was missing. I started my powered work-out regime again, this time without having to consider how much light was available.

That little bonus, was due to the heavy set of black goggles lying on the table in front of me. Goggles was a bit of a misnomer though, but it was the best I had. I'd never even seen something like this before. It was essentially heavy round lenses mounted on a half-mask covering the upper portion of someone's face, molded from the middle of the nose and ending right at the hairline. It looked slightly bulky, and more than a little ominous with the all-black color scheme. The bulky part wasn't just for show however. Scattered around the frame of the goggles, a bunch of buttons and dials were highlighted in a dark red color, matching the dark red rings around the lenses themselves. I had no clue who originally made these things, or were Intergang got them, but they were a technological marvel.

I sat on my couch, looking towards the kitchen, and seeing everything in absolute detail. Thing is? It was pitch black after I'd turned off the light, but the goggles just didn't care. Lifting one hand to the right lens, I slowly turned the red frame around it, almost giving myself a headache before I closed my left eye. Everything on my right eye though? I could see every little pit and smudge on a wall that was yards away as if I standing inches in front of it. In pitch black. I dialed back on the frame of the lens, allowing me to open my left eye again. I'd never get tired of this ting. The large frame also covered my ears, and I had a feeling that with a little fiddling, they could pick up radios, or worst case scenario, I could listen to music when out. Right now though? I only got an attack of static. Still, these hyper recon goggles were amazing.

The best part? There were three pairs in the hard plastic case that I'd… liberated? Yea, liberated from Intergang, along with a good dozen of folded and absolutely ghastly uniforms. If the uniforms did anything but look dumb, I hadn't figured it out. Right now, I was considering putting them up for sale on the superhero message boards. I might keep one or two as mementoes, but someone out there would probably pay hundreds of dollars for a genuine Intergang goon uniform… well, probably Intergang goon uniform.

Twirling Green Arrow's, uhm, green arrow in front of the goggles reminded me that I needed to thank David somehow. I might not have a job, but between my powers and the goggles, I'd figured out a pretty good alternative.

Besides, I had powers, only fair I got to cash in a little on the powered economy.


	7. Chapter 7 - Under The Radar

**AN: First chapter of the post-origin-eqsque segment of the story. I apologize if the first part ends up being a little jarring due to POV change etc. but it couldn't be avoided (well it could, but I didn't feel like trying my hand at first-person perspective for an established and as-of-yet limited character). So, new chapter. Throw in a PM, review or what have you, if you have any concerns, questions or just general critique. Next chapter in two weeks, unless I end up working much faster than expected. So, well, expect two weeks.**

 **Also, kudos to my first reviewers. Pretty cool moment when a couple popped in.**

 **Have fun.**

* * *

The tall caped figure entered the room. Normally a person would have to enter pass-codes, do retinal scans and a whole host of other security measures. Not true for the Manhunter however. The Martian merely drifted through the ceiling of the well-lit and metal-lined room, his form almost transparent until his feet touched the ground, and he became fully opaque. The flickering images of several screens reflected off of the metal walls, only partially blocked by the blonde and bearded form lazing in the chair, booted feet on the edge of the large console. The blonde man turned his head in the direction of the Martian, a smile slowly spreading.

"J'onn! It's good to see you bud! What brings you to my little cave?" the blonde asked in a jovial manner.

A slow nod greeted him, no facial expression forthcoming "Green Arrow. I am here because you summoned me. Urgently, I might add."

Green Arrow, or Oliver Queen to some, only kept smiling "Weeeell, urgent-ish. Anyway, I'm glad you're here. I could use a little help buddy."

Martian Manhunter merely cocked his head to the side, the green skin of his eyebrow rising ever so slightly.

The blonde archer's smile grew a little strained, but with a small shrug he continued "You're a stunning conversationalist as always J'onn. Right, let's get down to business then, shall we?"

A brief but serious nod was all the archer got in return.

Queen merely sighed, not that conversations were usually different with regards to the alien. He was a great guy and all, but Green Arrow had kinda hoped that the Martian would become a little less, well, alien over time.

"Oookay. So, you remember when I briefed the league on the black market selling random super stuff? You know, arrows, baterangs and the occasional boot or piece of cape?"

The Manhunter narrowed his eyes ever so slightly before speaking "I recall your briefing. I also recall you telling us not to worry. Were you mistaken?"

The blonde winced slightly "Ouch. But to answer your questions; not at the time. I've seen enough of an uptick over the past few months to make me a little concerned. Nothing particularly dangerous mind you, but it seems like there's a new crop of dedicated 'collectors' in Metropolis."

"I see. I assume there is a reason why you decided to contact me and not any of our Metropolis members?" the Manhunter asked, his gaze firmly on Green Arrow

If Green Arrow seemed bothered in the slightest, it didn't show. He merely swung his booted feet from the console and to the floor, and turned towards J'onn. "Ah, there's that big Martian brain! Exactly what I need. You see, the thing is, I have a plan to find out who we're dealing with. I'll handle the hard lifting in the first phase, but I'll need your particular set of skills for the second phase." Oliver got up from his chair, walking to stand in front of the Martian, one open hand extended towards him "You in?" he finished with a cheerful smile.

The Martian merely stared at the blonde's face, and then his proffered hand. "It sounds like you need a detective, not a-"

"No! no, no, no! No Bats!"

"I am merely suggesting th-"

"I know what you're suggesting, answer's no. I'm sure tall, dark and angry could find the guy we're after, but I'd prefer a gentler touch. Less fists, and frankly less Batman in Superman's neck of the woods. Now come on man, gotta learn our customs, you don't leave a man hanging" the last part Green Arrow finished with an emphatic shaking off his still proffered hand.

A weary sigh escaped the alien, the first real sign of emotion, before he reached for Green Arrow's extended hand, clasping his forearm against his "I am, as you say, in".

The archer merely looked at the at their clasped forearms with a raised eyebrow, before shaking his head and putting on another wide grin "Close enough!"

* * *

I had to admit that I took a certain perverse pleasure in using the roof of my own insurance company as my little observation post. I figured it was located in the center of Metropolis and tall enough that I had an awesome view of the center of the city, and more importantly, I had a view of several other tall roofs in every cardinal direction. For someone who needed line of sight to get around, it was pretty much paradise. Besides, if I ended up pissing someone off and they attacked me, it'd leave the insurance company with the responsibilities of trying to cash in on their, wait for it, insurance. Downright karmic, that. I wore a large grin hidden beneath the skiing half-mask. Maybe I was a little too proud of myself, but you had to take your happiness where you could. Mine just happened to be a smidge less ethically responsible than most other people's, or so I imagined.

Now I'd decided earlier on that my abilities and circumstances had put me into a position where I could make a decent side-income without having to work at a grocers or something like that, and I'd even found a neat set of high-tech goggles to help me out in that regard, courtesy of 'misplaced' Intergang shipping crates. Well more than one set, but redundancy is only responsible.

The thing was, I'd spend a good deal of time combing Metropolis for, ahem, 'souvenirs' from super-fights, and while that had served me pretty damn well these past couple of months, I seemed to be finding stuff faster than the super's… 'forgot' them. This led me to the conclusion that my little source of income would dry up soon, and I just really wasn't that keen on getting another menial minimum-wage job. Especially not after my dream student job had literally burned down in front of me. No, I was pretty set on keeping my little 'cleaning' job for the city. With a little creativity, you could even say that I was doing the city a favor, public service kinda deal.

So there I was, sitting on a foldable sun-chair on the top of a high-rise with the news blaring out of a small radio I'd brought. From up here, I might be able to spot any super fights before I'd ever hear about them in the radio, and if I didn't, well that's why I had the radio.

Normally I'd be complaining about the half-mask covering my nose and mouth, but the nights were getting pretty chilly this close to fall, and seeing as I was basically just sitting around, the extra heat made a difference. Especially with the wind. I mean rooftops seem awesome, right? The view, and the pure excitement of the height and all that, but the thing is, this far up? It's windy! So boots, dark jeans and mid-thigh length dark coat it was. At least the coat and boots off-set my earlier discount-ninja look. Well, that or the bulky and techy goggles covering everything from the bridge of my nose and to the edge of my hair did. Either way I just looked fairly normal from the neck down these days. The half-mask and the lightly glowing green of the goggle lenses kinda ruined that impression, but the half-mask could be folded down to just cover my neck, and the goggles could be removed in seconds and hidden in the back-pack I wore.

One other thing that was awesome about sitting on a tall building with an amazing view over downtown Metropolis during the early night? The blue and red flashing of police lights stood out like a neon flare. I quickly turned my head in the direction of the lightshow, bringing a hand up to the side of my goggles, pushing a button. Everything turned a clear green in my vision, banishing the darkness all around me, while turning the lens clock-wise allowed me to zoom in on the police cruiser.

"What do we have here?" I mumbled to myself

Hm. Bummer. From what I could see, it looked like any other run of the mill car chase. And while I was definitely rooting for the cops, I wasn't about to involve myself. Standard cop and robber type deal didn't net me anything that I could reasonably sell, and despite my teleportation, I was just as vulnerable to high-speed lumps of metal as the next guy. Well sort of, but I wasn't gonna bet my life on my odd little instinctive danger-portation. Well, not if I had a choice at least. Let the cops handle it, or if I was lucky, some cape would drop by, and hopefully misplace as few gadgets or other paraphernalia. Average Jane and Joe would be surprised to find out how much a piece of some super's cape could sell for - especially if it came from one of the female supers. I… I tried not to think too hard about that particular aspect of black market preferences.

I noticed bright flashes coming from the bulky truck the police cruiser was pursuing, and started zooming in on the truck. Car chases usually didn't involve a whole lot of gunplay, so I might actually have something different on my hands tonight. Slowly rising from my chair and closing the eye that was zoomed in on the chase, I walked to the edge of the roof and leaned my elbows on the edge, holding the edge of my goggles much like I would a pair of binoculars. When I was in position, I opened the eye again. The pursuit had managed to turn a street and was driving parallel to the street my building was on. The blare of sirens was getting closer, along with the sharp staccato of gunfire. Shit, hope those cops had back-up, 'cause it looked like the people in the truck had rifles, and not the cutesy semi-automatic variety either. Wasn't just an ordinary truck either – they'd managed to take an armored truck, and though I didn't really recognize the logo on the side, armored trucks were usually armored for a reason, and a lot more secure because of it. For all I knew, it was transporting cash, gold, or even art. Whatever was in the armored truck, it was apparently worth killing or being killed for.

The gunfire and the blaring of sirens kept getting closer, until the truck in the lead could continue straight, or turn down the road that I was on… please keep straight. I wasn't really in the mood to port in front of bullets again this soon. And of course, that's when the cops finally managed to hit one of back tires, forcing the heavy truck to take a sharp turn unto another road.

And now it was driving on MY damn road of all places and being herded straight towards the car-stopper-spike-trap-thingy that I'd almost missed being put up but a couple of cruisers further down the street. Almost missed 'em due to the lack of lights and my focus on the car chase, but it made sense they weren't advertising if they wanted the robbers to drive down this particular road and into their oh-so-subtle trap. Thing is? Pinning heavily armed criminals in an armored vehicle seemed like a pretty bad call considering they only had cruisers to hide behind. Maybe they were hoping the truck would swerve and flip or something? Guess I'd get my answer soon enough.

I started zooming my vision back out again so I could use both eyes again. Besides, teleporting around with one eye on zoom messed your equilibrium up something fierce. Not that I was going to teleport anywhere, of course. I was merely a spectator.

"Swear to god, you idiots are going to get shot to hell, and who's gonna save you then, hm?" I grumbled angrily.

Sometimes cops took risks that I just didn't get. Sure, sometimes Superman, his shapely cousin or one of the myriads of other capes would come to the rescue, but my confrontation with Barrage a few months ago proved that it wasn't a sure thing, but here the cops were, acting as if someone was watching out for them, and I sure as hell couldn't spot any tights.

Zoomed out as I was, I couldn't quite make out facial expressions or anything, but the rapid pumping of an arm pointing at the two parked cruisers was kinda hard to miss. So was following increase in gunfire.

Okay, so maybe I should take a slightly closer look. Just in case. I rotated my shoulders a bit, trying to work out the kinks, and jumped a little in place.

"Come on Will, you're fine. Bullet's can't touch you. Probably. Maybe. Besides, it'll work itself out, you'll see" I lied through my teeth.

I sucked in one last breath, and then 'jumped' to a much shorter building across the street, both getting be closer to road, but also incidentally giving me a better angle on the two cruisers parked on across the road further down, the officers already in cover behind their vehicles from the sporadic outpouring of gunfire in their direction.

Due to distraction, or maybe even the lack of proper lighting, the armored truck sped right over the nail-carpet, causing a small pop and hissing sound from its tires, and sending it swerving slightly to the right, the driver straining at the wheel, while the other gunman in the front jerked his arms and weapon back inside the vehicle .

With a screech of broken tires and overworked breaks, the armored car finally came to a stop, just in time for the officers in front of the car to pop up from behind cover and shout at the robbers

"Get out of the vehicle! On the ground! Now!"

I noted that the cruiser that had been in pursuit was only now stopping, a young blond man and an older black woman stepping out and raising their weapons. It was probably a good thing that the chase didn't go on any longer, cause the hood of their car was so much Swiss cheese at this point. It was probably going to need to be towed to even get off the road again. I was about to state the miracle of neither of them having taken a hit, when I noticed the hunched posture of the woman, and the discoloration on the lower part of her vest.

I briefly entertained the idea that they actually did have everything handled, potential gunshot wound notwithstanding. I mean, the armored car was at a stop, and not likely to take off at any speed again, and the robbers were surrounded. Now they just needed a few more cruisers to show up and things would be-

My thoughts were rudely interrupted when, two large men from the drivers compartment and two from the armored storage rushed out, weathering a few panicked shots hfrom the officers before opening up with their much heavier weapons, and sending the officers diving behind their cars for cover. Well fuck, judging from their severely limited reaction to taking a couple of shots from the police, they were either doped up to their eyeballs or they wore some sort of ballistic protection, and not the cheap kind.

I started looking at the sky, sincerely hoping to see a red cape a green glow, or hell, at this point even an ominous black shape skulking somewhere in the shadows. But the skies were clear, and the shadows were empty.

I briefly wondered how in the hell I could be living in the City of Tomorrow, the home of the Kryptonians and still have no capes crowding up the place. Okay, so maybe I wasn't wondering as much as hoping that someone would come take this off my hands.

I heard more sirens in the distance, but they wouldn't be fast enough to make any real difference. They'd only be more hands to carry the dead.

"… okay that was morbid, Will" and that's when it finally dawned on me that I'd already decided to intervene, and all I'd been doing was stalling. Game face on Will.

I breathed out deeply, stretched my back and shoulders, gloved hands flexing in and out before taking a crouching position and 'pulled'. Less than a second later I was crouched behind a shot-all-to-hell police cruisers looking at two of Metropolis' finest trying to make themselves as small as possible while hissing angrily into a radio.

I managed a small wave and a "Hiya-" before two guns were aimed firmly at my face. Okay, so perhaps that was a reasonable response all things considered, but I wasn't really a fan of guns aimed at me.

"Hey hey hey! Calm down guys! I'm not part of the shooty-brigade over there"

"Then why don't you tell us exactly who the hell you are and how you got so damn close!" the woman, younger than I'd initially taken her for, hissed with a wince, one hand going to her lower abdomen.

"I teleported. It's sort of my thing. I haven't even moved since I 'jumped here'. As for who I am? Uhm-"

"Shit! I didn't think that'd work…" Wait what? "Nevermind, you're Collateral, right?"

I instantly deflated. While some supers out there probably saw it as a point of pride being recognized and having their own little nom-de-guerre, to me it only meant I'd done a shitty job at keeping quiet and you know, not literally let myself get named by one of Metropolis' finest. Real low key there buddy.

I hesitated and decided that my internal misgivings about my appointed alias were for another time. Preferably one with less gunfire and high-speed metal hitting cars - cars I was also currently relying on for protection.

"Yeah… that's me." Right. I was here for a reason. "So, I kinda saw the show from one of the rooftops nearby, and I figured you might want to hitch a ride to somewhere less bullet-ridden?"

"We uh, might be in a bit of a bind." The young blonde man managed to state, eyes a bit too wide.

"What my partner means-" her voice taking on that lovely shade of disappointed mother "is that circumstances have developed beyond our ability to control. Back-up is on the way, but I'm not sure we'll be in a position to capitalize on that when it happens. Any help would be-" and that was my cue. With their guns lowered, I managed to get a hand on an arm each and crane my neck towards the edge of a nearby rooftop and 'jumped' taking a couple of passengers along for the ride.

I unceremoniously dumped the young officer over the 'step' from the edge of the roof, to the roof proper, getting an angry squawk for my trouble, while gingerly helping the senior officer down into a sitting position, her eyes slightly vacant from the pain of the, and small gasps coming from her. Right, more cops in trouble.

I gave them a brief nod, before I found myself in a very similar situation again. This time however, the officers were both male and the gun-waving a bit more panicked. But then again, seeing as these guys were still poking their heads up at regular intervals, they were getting the absolute worst of the gunfire, so to an extent them being jittery made sense. A good deal of sense I admitted, but I didn't particularly enjoy almost getting shot several times in only a few minutes.

With shaking hands held out in front of me in a placating manner, I managed to convince them to call on the other two officers on the radio to verify what I was saying. A few words on the radio and a nod in my direction, and I now had four cops huddled behind the parapet of the roof.

"So now what? I'm happy you got us out and all, but they'll notice we're not there sooner or later, and then they'll scram!" one of the two men from my second rescue barked at me.

Well. He wasn't wrong. Wasn't quite my problem though.

I replied, calmly, or as calm as I could get with shaking hands and the sound of gunfire in the background "Well won't your back-up arrive soon? You know someone actually equipped to handle full-auto weaponry and body-armor?"

"Eventually-" the older black woman insisted "but it takes time to mobilize our heavy units. Most cops are like us, just out on patrol for run of the mill crimes. This kind of thing is usually handled by our heavy units, or almost as often, some of the superheroes."

"Well fine, no heavies yet, but can't you send up the super-signal for the capes?"

The young junior officer lifted an eyebrow in confusion "But aren't you one? I mean, you can teleport for crying out loud! They wouldn't even be able to touch you!"

Silence reigned for a few heartbeats before I hissed "This is your damn job, not mine! Do I look like a fucking superhero?"

"You're wearing a costume aren't you?" the young officer asked, looking to his senior cops for backup. They all nodded, although they didn't seem as convinced. Still, traitors!

"This" I fumed "Is not a costume! It's regular clothing and a handy set of binoculars!"

"But you even have a hero name!"

"That one of you guys gave me!"

"Well, if you're not a superhero, then you're just a masked vigilante, and those we've got rules for!"

The older black woman, the sensible one managed a heavy pained sigh "Carl, how about we don't piss on the lovely gesture that was saving our lives, while trying to goad him into risking his? Collateral-" I winced behind my mask, I mean goggles "-was right earlier, this is our job, not his". Even the other two older officers seemed to agree, sending 'Carl' a tired frown. "But-" Buts are never good. "-Carl's not entirely wrong though. That armored car down there isn't from one of the companies that handle money transfers. Anything could be in there, and from how well-equipped they are, it probably isn't anything we want them to have."

I groaned loudly "Fine. Any of you got one of those nightsticks?"

"You mean a baton?" dumb blonde Officer Carl asked

"Sure, let's go with that. Got one?"

"We all do, but they're wearing full body and head armor, what do you think a baton will accomplish against that?" demanded one of the middle-aged cops

Okay, so maybe I hadn't thought that far ahead. "Guess we'll go with the good ol' Barrage routine then. Wish me luck" If anyone asked me later, there was absolutely no hitch or waver in my voice. Solid goddamn steel was I!

"…the what routine?" I heard from behind me, while walking to the other end of the roof, trying to contain the stupid combination of fear and adrenaline. I swear, I could vibrate through solid ice from all the shaking I was currently doing.

'Fortunately' a few months ago when this all started, I'd learned that just acting instead of thinking was the only way to go. Not because it was the smart way mind you, but it was the only way of not giving the reasonable voice in my head enough time to convince me of what an absolutely terrible idea this was. So, with a couple of deep breaths and a few slaps to my cheeks I was ready. Well, ready-ish.

And that's how my little experiment of how high you could drop someone in full-body armor and helmet before they stopped trying to kill you. I waited just long enough for the everyone to be looking in different directions, or had their view impaired by the armored truck when 'jumped' down behind the first armored robber, just long enough for me to reorient and grab the conveniently located handle on the upper back part of the armor. It probably served another purpose, but I'd get some use out of it regardless of design intentions.

I looked straight up before teleporting twelve feet into the air, immediately dropping my cargo, a cry of terror following the guy until it changed to a pained "oomph!" and a thud.

I 'jumped' straight after dropping him, making sure I wasn't in anyone's immediate line of sight. Now I just had to wait and see if he was going to stay down, or if I'd have to up the ante for my next attempt.

One of the other gunmen rushed over, the other two now covering the deserted police cruisers, and started trying to get the one I'd just dropped back unto his feet… which he surprisingly managed, though with obvious pain and a wobble. Okay, so twelve feet was a tad on the low side with all that armor to absorb some of the impact.

"Guess it's trial and error time" I whispered to myself.

The next few minutes would honestly have been hilarious if not for the potential of catching a bullet along the way. I distracted the would-be robbers by throwing random detritus after a few well-timed 'jumps'. It's oddly satisfying throwing a dented and empty can of soda, and see four gun-toting criminals jump like an explosion had just gone off. Even better was teleporting behind one of them and give them an impromptu flying lesson. No one passed. Also, it seems that even with body-armor, a fifteen foot drop is pretty damn painful.

With a little misdirection and courage I was sure I didn't have, I ended up leaving the four robbers in a moaning and cursing pile. Didn't take too much to simply snag the weapons from there and 'jump' back to the rooftop where I left the cops.

Walking towards the group of cops with a little spring in my step, I was hoping for a little praise, honestly feeling both a little satisfied and maybe a smidge of pride, when one of the older cops had to open his stupid mouth.

"You know, if it was that simple, you could've just brought them up here one after another, and we could have cuffed 'em instead of smacking them around on the asphalt down there"

… Well, he wasn't wrong. Stupid hindsight. Best not let him know that though "Could've been dangerous if they had more weapons or something. Safer this way" I insisted with a firm nod of my head. Sure it was, Will.

The cop looked at me, doubt etched unto his face, but in the end, he just shrugged, as if saying it wasn't his damn problem, before turning to the other cops present. "Now what?"

I walked to the edge of the parapet so I could keep an eye on my handiwork and give the cops some privacy to figure things out. I suppose they'd let me know if they needed my help for anything more. Right now, I just needed to make sure that no one decided to do a runner while my back was turned.

Fortunately, disarmed and sporting a few bruises, if not broken bones, they didn't seem to be in much of a fighting mood anymore. Besides, I figure being repeatedly dropped from more than fifteen feet leaves an impression.

"You're Collateral, right?" a serious female voice questioned.

"So they keep say-" I said, craning my neck up, finally taking notice of the colorfully clad woman hanging in the air. "-ing… You're Supergirl!" I replied, my voice somewhere between surprise and apprehension.

A playful smirk met my eyes "So they keep saying."

I gave her a fast once-over, fortunately hidden behind my goggles, noting a slim athletic physique aggressively showcased with the cropped blue shirt tightly hugging her upper torso and arms, and the short blue skirt rippling in the evening breeze. I kinda hoped that she wore bicycle shorts or something underneath, 'cause otherwise that was a pretty ballsy move for someone spending so much time above people's heads. I stopped my subtle elevator-look at her toned and oddly bare midriff, frowning under my mask and goggles "… that's gotta get really cold" I mumbled under my breath, noting her body language going stiff, her hands reflexively crossing her stomach protectively.

"Yeeeeah… keep the words in your head if you don't want me to hear them Collateral." She suggested in a voice that really didn't make it sound like much of a suggestion at all.

My head jerked up at her comment, meeting her eyes through the lenses of my goggles; well I met her eyes at least, before shrugging "Valid question though." I stated flatly while motioning towards my own dark coat and boots.

She merely sighed, and I quickly got the impression that this wouldn't be the first time she'd had to answer that particular question. "I can fly faster and higher than any airplane designed on earth. Do you really think a little wind will inconvenience me in the slightest?"

"Uhm. No?" I hedged.

"-and there we go. Mystery solved" she muttered, just loud enough for me to catch over the wind. I narrowed my eyes, not quite done. Sure, maybe it didn't inconvenience her, but now that I apparently had her attention for whatever reason, I wanted to satisfy my own curiosity a little "But-" I started, raising my right hand, my index finger pointing straight up "- while that answers one question, it sort of raises another

Supergirl narrowed her eyes "it really doesn't have to"

"Why wear something that-" I started.

"-Because it looks damn good on me! And when your skin is tougher than titanium, then clothing really stops being a layer of protection, and more a layer of hindrance. Or is that a problem?" she hissed, her hands turning into fists at her side.

I took a step back, instantly aware that apparently I'd just pissed off the closest thing to a god inside of the continental US. Probably outside of it too. Shit.

"Calm do-" rule one-oh-one, don't tell them to calm down "Erhm, what I mean is-"

"Yes?" she asked, head cocked expectantly, eyebrow raised and arms crossed across her chest.

"You know what? I give up. Costume is great. You're great. Everything is great."

She focused hard on me for a couple of seconds, before turning her head, an exaggerated thinking expression on her face, before turning back to me with a quick smile and a wink "True. I am pretty great."

I hesitated for a short while, the silence becoming tangible before finally opening my mouth again. "Right. So, uhm. You're here?"

"So I am." She allowed, her tone and demeanor changing to one much more serious "I wanted to thank you for stepping in. This could've gone terribly wrong if no one had intervened. Unfortunately my cousin and I can't be everywhere all the time, so I truly appreciate you helping out. It's… it's good to have a new face in town – a new colleague, I suppose." She ended with a brief smile.

Okay. So the gesture was more than the cynical part of me expected, but on the other hand, I didn't quite like the implication of being considered a colleague. Sounded too much like responsibility I didn't want, and not even the paying kind… though, perhaps that wasn't something I needed to share with her. No reason to burn any bridges – especially not with a Kryptonian.

"Happy to help. Couldn't just stand here and let them get shot." Okay, so maybe only parts of that sentence were entirely honest, but I had actually done something. Stepped up to the plate. Fought the good fight. Gotten blood on my boots. I probably shouldn't dwell too much on that last part.

A sad smile followed that "You'd be surprised at how few actually managed to act"

I shrugged again "Most people aren't bulletproof or-" I teleported to the building across from us "- can teleport out of harm's way". I know I was showing off a little, but I was also trying to make a point. I'd barely even blinked on the other building before I saw her flying right in front of me, cape billowing around her at the speed she'd just moved.

"So that's what you do! You're a teleporter!" she beamed at me.

"Couldn't I be a speedster?" I asked, a little bemused at her almost instant conclusion.

She dismissed that idea right away "Pff, highly unlikely unless you move much faster than the Flash"

At my confused silence, she elaborated "I can see Flash, even when he's going supersonic, so-" she laughed

"-so obviously I'm not a speedster" I grumbled.

Well that was patently unfair. So no whispering and mumbling or talking to myself, and no way of getting away from her or her, erhm, 'super' eyes. Okay, so combine that with flying, speed, strength and durability, and maybe there was a reason most crooks didn't bother to even fight when one of the Kryptonians showed up.

"I know what you're saying though." She did? "It's easy to lose perspective with powers like ours, and all the publicity doesn't really help either." Ah. She did. After a fashion. Though I hardly thought it was fair to include me in that particular equation.

"I'll take your word for it." I grinned at her.

"Oh you're laughing now goggle-boy, but just you wait. We rarely get to keep out of the limelight in this business, so most of us embrace it – try to make it a tool. Make yourself a symbol of goodness, justice and peace and you'll create greater change than violence ever could." She chuckled a little self-consciously at that "That's what Kal-El, I mean Superman keeps saying at least." she snorted.

I scratched my head a little at that logic. Sure, it probably made sense if you were only a couple of inches away from godhood, and you had charisma and looks in spades, but I didn't really see that applying for everyone with powers.

"There's… a certain logic to it, especially when it comes to the two of you" I allowed. "But I don't think I'm quite 'lead by example' material, if you know what I mean."

"No one is perfect, Collateral, least of all me and Kal" She hesitated for a second "Maybe that's why the symbol is so important. It doesn't represent what we are, but what we aspire to be – what we want to inspire in others."

"I'm not arguing that, just saying it may not be a one-glove-fits-all kinda situation. I mean, Batman obviously isn't reading from the same training manual as you and Superman"

Judging from the groan and her palm covering her face, that might not be the most popular example. "Batman is exceptionally good at what he does, but no one, and I mean it, no one reads from the same 'training manual' as him. Besides, this isn't Gotham, we don't have the same kind of problems, so we don't need to borrow his particular solutions."

I merely spread my hand in a 'there you have it' gesture "As I said, there's no one-glove-fits-all approach. Now perhaps we should see about getting the cops off the roof?" I gently asked, wanting nothing more to do with this pseudo-philosophical hero debate, and if I were to have one, it sure as shit wouldn't be with someone in her class.

The flying blonde looked a little confused at my change of subject, but her features cleared before long, apparently willing to drop the discussion for more pressing concerns. "Can you get them down to the street? I think we'd all prefer if I didn't have to carry them. I'll make sure the robbers stay put – besides, I can hear more officers, they'll be here within a minute or two."

I nodded, relived to be able to leave. I'd had quite enough exposure for one day from the cops alone, and I didn't even want to consider how far up the 'don't get on the radar of' Supergirl was.

I 'jumped' back across the street to the rooftop with the huddled group of officers, eliciting a brief high-pitched noise from the young blonde officer and breaking in to their conversation before anyone could ask any questions "Everyone who wants down, grab a hold. Two at a time please"

The two older officers grabbed a proffered forearm each. A few steps to the edge of the roof, and they were back on the ground by their bullet-ridden cruiser. After a brief hesitation and a widening of their eyes, I got what I can only describe as a very serious nod. I wasn't quite sure what that meant, but at least it was an affirmative. I nodded back and seconds later I was staring at the senior female officer and her young partner

"Sure took your time with Super bimbo!" young idiot cop sneered at me.

I frowned under my mask, trying to figure out just how someone this unstable man-child had gotten a badge when I finally responded "You should probably keep that to yourself."

"You threatening an officer?" he barked at me.

Okay, maybe he had an aneurism or something. "No dipshit, because she can fucking hear you from down there" I explained, pointing a thumb over my shoulder and down.

He took a step towards me, hands balled into fists before the his partner, looking a little grey around the gills, pulled him back by one arm "That is enough out of you!" she commanded angrily, before letting out a pained hiss, one of her hands went to the spot of blood I'd noticed earlier. The spot was now covering most of her blue shirt beneath the police vest. I only briefly noticed because her movement in pulling back her partner opened the police-issue coat. Shit, this was no scratch.

I caught her eyes, seeing the exhaustion there "Where's the nearest hospital?" I asked quietly, completely ignoring her fuming partner.

She raised a finger, pointing away from us "Couple of block that direction" she whispered, her voice hoarse.

I nodded again, grabbing her hand, and praising whatever was out there, that she wasn't still holding back her partner. I didn't feel like doing him any favors. I turned my head around, but waited for a nod before pulling the mental lever and teleporting away.

It worked out really. I got one of the good cops to a hospital, stuck an asshole on a rooftop, the only person who could easily get him down probably not particularly inclined after his comment, and I made it away from Supergirl without further comment. I'd consider that at least a partial win. Partial because I had nothing to show for it – nothing to sell.

I got a seemingly heartfelt 'thank you' from the female officer I'd gotten to the ER, and a promise that she'd remember this. Eh, maybe it wasn't too bad of a day.

* * *

Peeling my half-mask off and throwing it at the dirty clothes hamper, only to bounce off the over-stuffed container, I let off an explosive sigh. I really wasn't in the mood to do laundry, but no mask, no powered outings. Oh well, it needed to get done, and unlike the costumes flying around out there, I could do laundry without fear of anyone seeing something they shouldn't.

With a groan I walked over to my hamper and tried to push everything as far into it as I could - didn't want to drop a dirty pair of undies on my way to the buildings communal laundry room. Pretty old school that, but at least it wasn't used by others that often, most having either bought or brought their own washer and dryer. That just hadn't been in my budget before, and I was still loath to spend any significant amount of my recent savings on a luxury like that; especially when the laundry room here worked just fine.

I walked down the empty hallway of the building's basement, lugging what felt like forty lbs of dirty clothes, when I mused that perhaps I needed to get out of Metropolis, for a little while at least. Sure, I loved the irony of my little overwatch position in downtown Metropolis, but it hadn't led to any new souvenirs, and tonight was the third time in less than a month that I'd had to intervene and limit the collateral damage. God, I was starting to dislike the word 'collateral'… but that's nonetheless what the bystanders would've become a week ago, and I was fairly certain that without me stepping in tonight, at least one of Metropolis' finest would've needed to be fitted for a casket.

It would be simple enough to just move my rooftop spot to somewhere else, but with Supergirl apparently knowing about Collateral and considering him, me, somewhat of a colleague, then moving a few blocks away probably wouldn't solve a lot. No, what I needed was simply to not be here for a little while. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Sure. Probably. Hopefully.

I turned a corner, nearing my target and finding the door open, but the light turned off inside the room. Bingo! Not in use meant it was all mine. I started stuffing the two machines, absently sorting them while trying to figure out what my next move would be.

David was with his parents somewhere out of the country, probably some expensive island if what I knew about his parents was true. I wasn't really keen on going back to my own parents and my old friends were scattered across the country. There honestly wasn't a lot to do. Hell, even Mr. Sanders, now on the mend, had decided to cash in on his insurance and last time I spoke with him, he was strongly leaning towards retiring as opposed to rebuilding or starting something new. I'd even considered trying to get in touch with Linda, but I just didn't know how outside of buying a billboard. Sure, I knew she was a student at the MetU, but I'd never actually seen her there. I figured it wouldn't even matter if I had. All of the natural sciences were under reconstruction, classes were over for the semester, and for all I knew, she could be studying at one of the off-campus sites.

No, I needed to do a little research, pick a nice large city with plenty of super-activity and then go for a little treasure hunt. That decided, I put in the soap and detergent and started up the machines.


	8. Chapter 8 - Road Trip

**AN:**

 **A reviewer pointed out that my fic isn't exactly easy to find, which I can't really argue with. So, if anyone has any suggestions for forums or communites that could help remedy that, then I'm all ears.**

 **Not much else to say this time around. Hope you all enjoy.**

 **Chapter 8 - Road Trip**

Okay, so I already knew that I should pick a new spot, what with my little overwatch position on top of the insurance building downtown being compromised. Only lightning doesn't strike twice the same place right? Or, uhm, four times the same place. Whatever. I wasn't really up here looking for any super-fights I could capitalize on, I merely wanted to enjoy the view and while listening to some great tunes. I've never really had a view before, I mean not that the rooftop was quite mine, but it definitely was a _view_. Even in the late afternoon, the sky was clear and I could see for miles from up here. Also happened to be a pretty cool spot to get a little lunch, and the chair I'd brought a few weeks ago gave me a convenient place to sit down.

I'd actually gotten some research done and narrowed down my upcoming trip. I was strongly leaning towards Star City or Central City, both of them having fairly well known heroes, but more importantly having a ton of local villains that simply _loved_ their gadgets – gadgets I could liberate for a little profit. Of course I was a little wary of the Flash, not quite knowing what the hell I'd ever do if I pissed off someone so fast that I couldn't even see him. Green Arrow seemed on a slightly different level though. I could deal with arrows and some kung-fu. That is to say, I could totally run from that. Same same. I'd completely dismissed the triangle of LA, San Francisco and Las Vegas. Supposedly people did magic there. Not sure I even bought the whole idea of magic, but I sure as hell wasn't going to risk it. Same thing with Gotham. Oh it might be obvious with how close to Metropolis it was, and there seemed to be gadgets abound from both sides of the proverbial fence, but I was not, and I repeat _not_ going to fucking Gotham. As far as I was concerned, there were far more pleasant ways to go insane out there.

So I'd tentatively narrowed down the field for my little upcoming, and frankly I'd probably be leaving with a day or two. Just needed to figure out logistics for the trip.

I sat down, the chair creaking less gently than I felt was entirely fair. If anything I'd been losing a few lbs recently! Getting nice and comfortable despite the ominous creaking, I opened the brown paper bag from a restaurant I'd stumbled on recently. Another perk of getting out a lot more, was little gems like this. The place made pretty decent burgers, but their fries were absolutely fantastic. The heady smell of beef, brioche and cooked fat instantly set my stomach growling. Swinging my feet up to rest on the parapet of the building, I gently lifted the paper-wrapped burger out of the bag, putting it on my thigh, while greedily stuffing a hand down the bag, hunting for the stray fries that were bound to have fallen out during the packaging.

Pulling down my half-mask, grimacing slightly at how it stuck to the stubble now covering the lower half of my face, I stuffed down a couple of fries, quietly sighing with contentment. I barely managed to reach into the bag to catch some more fries, when a burst of pink smoke appeared only a few feet away, surprising me enough to send me pushing off the parapet with my feet, the force collapsing the chair I was on, and sending my heard-earned burger bouncing off my thigh and onto the ground.

"Hiya! Wait, why are you on the ground? Are those fries? Uh, give!" a bubbly voice exclaimed with barely a pause between each question.

Goddamnit... Pink smoke and an overenthusiastic girly voice? That could only mean Misfit. But how in the hell had she found me? Nothing about the robbery yesterday had referred to this rooftop, and the building only in passing. I'd know if it did – I _checked_!

I slowly got off the ground, sighing as I brushed the dirt off my coat and pants, focusing on that before I was ready to address my bubbly 'companion'. That's when I heard the crinkle of paper. Specifically of the brown paper bag filled with my fries. _My_ fries.

"Hey! Stop that, give those back!" I barked, one of my hands instinctively reaching for my lunch.

Eyes widening, she looked at up from the bag and straight at me, then down at the bag again, taking a reflective step back.

Narrowing my eyes behind the heavy goggles, I teleported within reach of my fries snaking my hand out to steal them back only for a small 'pop' to sound and all I was grasping was pinkish smoke. God teleporting was an absolute pain to deal with. The irony of that thought momentarily stopped me in my track. I grunted, the philosophical implications of my powers would have to wait until I got rid of Misfit.

"You could've asked nicely and I might've given them back!" Misfit's voice came from behind me before adding in a sullen tone "… a real gentleman would share."

"You shouldn't even have taken them in the first place! You can't just go around taking shit that isn't yours!" I hissed, completely ignoring how hypocritical that probably was coming from me. "How did you even find me?"

"You're totally rude" she pouted dramatically, but seemed to not care one whit about my reaction. Hell, I think I even saw a hint of a smile on her lips. Little shit was playing around!

"And what do you mean found you? I just teleported here." She said, while having the nerve to look like the question had actually confused her.

"Yes… yes you did. Let me specify – can't have me overworking your poor middle school brain after all, how did you know where _here_ was?"

"I'm not in middle school! And you're being an ass…" so stated, she snuck a handful of _my_ fries into her mouth. "I have resources y'know? Didn't take me more than a few minutes to figure out you'd been skulking around up here" she snorted after that "if only you knew how many times you've been mentioned in MPD files lately"

I'd been what now? "Wait. What? Why am I in a bunch of MPD files? And perhaps more pertinent, how exactly do you have access to MPD files?"

She had the decency to look a little guilty at that "Well, y'know.." she looked like she was about to speak up, when she suddenly narrowed her eyes looking me straight in the eyes, or well, goggles really, before a self-satisfied smile spread across her lips "Cool goggles. I wonder where you got those?"

"I, uh.." Damn. Sneaky. Gotta remember she's less scatterbrained than she looks. Fair enough, message received, we both have secrets. My shoulder slumping slightly I muttered "…fine" at her, only making her smile widen before giving me an honest to god curtsey of all things.

Slowly walking to my wrapped burger, in a manner some might describe as petulantly, I bent over, picking it up, surprised that the wrapping had actually managed to keep everything protected from the fall. Stuffing the burger in one of my large coat pockets, a small smile appeared on my lips before I shouted "Look! Superman!"

Misfit immediately turned her head, the motion fast enough that it would have given an older person whiplash, her mouth open and eyes comically wide. Kindergarden-level distraction successful, I teleported to right in front of her, hand already outstretched towards my target and feeling the dry crinkle of the brown paper bag in my hand, before I even managed to completely refocus my eyes. Having a firm grasp on the bag, I then stepped right into her personal space, standing almost chest to chest. From there, human nature did the rest. Snapping her head back to me, looking somewhere between confused and flustered she instantly backed away from me, releasing my fries on the way.

Smirking at her stunned expression, I popped a few fries in my mouth. Ahh, the taste of victory. She might not be an idiot, entirely at least, but she still reacted like a typical high-school girl when someone got too close. Sure, I wasn't more than a few years older, but you learned a lot about others and yourself when you're forced to stand on your own feet in completely foreign city.

"Fine! Keep your stupid fries!" she fumed, color darkening her cheekbones.

"Oh, I intend to" I added, smugness dripping off my voice while I walked back to my chair, gently getting it back on its feet and checking it over for anything broken. I noticed out the corner of my eye that she was fidgeting. Ah. Well, wouldn't last long before she simply _had_ to speak then.

"Looks better without the stupid mask" she mumbled, just within my hearing range. Without my mask though? I didn't know what she was talking about. Stuffing a couple of more fries into my mouth, it hit me like a sledgehammer. I hadn't been wearing anything on my face aside from my new goggles when she showed up. I still wasn't. Shit! Rookie mistake Will! The entire point of a secret identity was it being secret, and a great fucking way to keep it secret, was not showing people your face you idiot! With a slight twitch, I quickly pulled up the half-mask, not caring for the salt or oil I'd inevitably be getting on.

"Aw really? You still have that stupid thing? I was totally going to praise you too!"

"Yeah well, secret identity means not showing my face everywhere"

She took a step back a hand going to cover her mouth "You're afraid of _me_ finding out?"

She took me looking straight at her and without moving as the scathing look it was supposed to be. Which only made her burst out laughing.

"I could totally just follow you around and find out anyway." She giggled, until she saw my hands starting to crush the paper bag with my forgotten fries.

"But I wouldn't! Promise! We're like, super-friends now! Colleagues! Partners in cri… maybe not that. Anyways, I even read that you were chatting up Supergirl! Which, I mean, I'm not sure why she'd take the time, you kinda looking like a c-list crook. But still! She's a major league hero!"

Christ, did she ever even breathe? And if I was a crook, I'd at least be b-list! "We're really not though." I added after her rant.

"Not what?"

"Colleagues, partners in anything and we're most definitely not super-friends. Take your pick." I grunted

"Well if that's true, then you'd have to be the crook you look like, and then I'd have to lay a beating on you" She beamed innocently

Okay, despite how she looked and acted, and I couldn't overstate the latter of those two, she probably had far more combat training than I did, and she was inconveniently the only other teleporter I knew of, which meant fighting her was basically my worst nightmare outside of a Kryptonian or a speedster of some sort. Fuck me sideways.

Sighing like someone three times my age I did the absolute minimum I could to placate her. "… colleagues then."

"YES!" she shouted "agents of justice represent!"

" _Unwilling_ colleagues" I stated flatly, stressing the former.

"Too late my partner in port!"

"Cool down Misfit before I'm forced to ask your age or weight or something"

"Nineteen and varies from week to week!" she snorted at me.

Swing and a miss Will, swing and a miss. "At least that means you can't drink. Small mercies I suppose".

"So! Now that you're a proper hero, how about we get you a real costume?"

"I'm most certainly not a hero, and I'm not getting a new costume, or anything that could even be remotely classified as a costume" I deadpanned

"If we're colleagues then that makes you a hero" she stated firmly, puffing out her chest and raising her chin in a mildly challenging manner.

"Nope. I'm. more of a public servant."

"Agree to firmly disagree! I read what you did for that woman cop. Got her all the way to the hospital after laying down some hard justice on the bandits and keeping the other cops safe! Pretty amazing. Pretty heroic some might even say."

"I only interfered because it was right on my doorstep" Wrong time, wrong place as far as I was concerned.

"Does that make the bad guys any more successful or the cops any less alive?" She challenged

No, but that was a perversion of logic to my mind. I had powers, so my intervention was far less heroic than the cops doing their job, however ill-prepared. Besides, intent counts for a lot, and I wasn't actively out searching for anyone to save, or hell, even really do anything particularly good or ethical.

"… Still not getting a costume"

"Why not! We can make you look like a real badass! We just need some black spandex and armor plates and, oh oh! A cape! Scarlet? No, crimson!"

"There isn't a single one of the theoretically infinite parallel worlds where I'd ever run around in spandex." Armor wasn't a terrible idea – especially as I didn't really do much but teleport around. "and a cape is just asking for someone to grab you or get stuck in a door or something, and I'm not doing 'death by wardrobe malfunction' thank you very much. Besides, I've absolutely no need to walk around showing off all of my 'bumps' on the job" I grinned my hands motioning her tight shirt, denim skirt and tights.

"My 'bumps' are perfectly and stylishly covered. But fine, keep your dumpy outfit then. I bet you didn't comment on Supergirl's outfit though. Those long legs and that tight short top, all of those 'bumps'" she grinned while stretching her arms above her head, making her shirt ride up to the middle of her stomach as well as tighten over her chest, ending the little bit of theatrics with a wink.

Well she did look pretty, uh, healthy. Erhm, Supergirl that is. To be fair, her costume _had_ kinda confused me. "Uhm, well, actually…"

"You didn't!" she demanded a look of pure shock on her face.

"It… sort of slipped out. I didn't know she had super hearing for crying out loud!"

"Oh god, this is the absolute BEST! I can't even" I swear, there was actually tears rolling down her cheeks. Taking her sweet time catching her breath and wiping away the tears, she leaned against the parapet of the roof. "You must be good looking under that silly mask and those googly eyes for her not to have thrown you off the building"

I cocked my head at that. Why would my looks matter when I wore a mask?

Her eyes widened in return."You mean you don't know? Kryptonians can see through, like, everything!"

I rocked back in my chair, almost falling over again. They could fucking what now?

"Oh calm down you big baby! Supergirl is one of the good guys, so it doesn't really matter, does it?" she tried and failed miserably at placating me.

It sure fucking did. "What part of secret identity don't you get?" I hissed, pretty overwhelmed that I might have failed this spectacularly already.

That elicited less of a reaction than I'd imagined, merely rolling her eyes at my frustration "It's not like they actively run around and try to figure out other heroes' identities, so unless you gave her a reason, your secret is probably safe. Also, you could totally stand to be a little nicer to a lady like me!"

Fuck 'probably'. All I knew was that even more so than before, I was staying the hell away from anyone from Krypton. For all I knew, they could also hear you lying by listen to your heartbeat or shoot tiny clones out of their fingers. No more Kryptonians. None. But I suppose that wasn't Misfit's fault.

"I'm… sorry. This wasn't your fault. I'm honestly grateful that you told me."

"No biggie. So, fries?" She beamed, blinking both of her eyes rapidly at me.

… Whatever, they were getting cold anyways and intentions aside, she had just given me some pretty useful information. I threw the deformed paper bag at her, while digging the cooling burger out of my pocket. At least I'd have something to eat.

"… so about the costume"

"Seriously, give it a break. Even if I wanted one, I wouldn't get one – just aren't handy"

"Way are though."

"You're not even wearing much more of a costume than I am" I sighed before continuing "but, no they aren't. They get you recognized, which I don't want, and I don't even have my own washer and drying. Could you imagined Superman or Batman washing their capes at a Laundromat? Their identity would be the worst kept secret."

"Yeah, about that… I may have had a different costume before, and I may even have been aiming for a specific one." She said, oddly quiet for once before perking up again "But hey, you win some, you lose some! And who say's I'm not working on a new and totally awesome one? I'm sure I'd look amazing in a cat suit and cape! And basically no one launders their own costume you dunce. D'you know how much toxic gunk heroes get on their gear, and how often something rips? We've got people for that" she grinned, wagging her eyebrows and stressing the work 'people'.

"So what, you're some rich kid with servants? How does that apply for everyone else?"

"Pfff, no. The JL has a deal with some business mogul's cleaning subsidiary, some Queen guy or some such - JL approved and secured and everything. You just dump off your gear, and a day or two later it's as good as new! I mean, if there's enough left of the costume at least."

Well that was certainly news to me. And pretty interesting news at that. It also begged the question of how someone like Misfit would even have access to that, given that she was decidedly not a Justice League member as far as I could tell. Still, a few follow-up questions would be in order.

"So… you get in a fight, get nasty gunk on your costume or gear, and you just turn it into this 'place'? Isn't that inconvenient unless there are JL sponsored laundromats or workshops or whatever in most large cities?"

"Well, not everyone uses them I guess. I mean, I'm so awesome that no one ever hits me, so I don't have to very often" she gloated, though aimed at who was anyone's guess. "But you've got the idea! There are places all over, like in Metropolis, Central City and Happy Harbor, all those places!"

Happy Harbor? Didn't ring any bells. I took a bite out of my burger, giving me a little time to think before responding. Why would one of these JL sponsored places be in a city that seemed pretty damn unimportant? Judging from the other cities Misfit mentioned, these 'super laundromats' were placed at large concentrations of heroes, and more so if those heroes had to be affiliated with the Justice League somehow. What was I missing? Hm, worth doing a little research on this 'Happy Harbor' once I get home.

I finished chewing, looking back up at her "So, sure, I can see them cleaning and even stitching a few rips and such, but what the hell do they do with all the stuff that can't be repaired?"

"Store it? Destroy it? Who knows. Don't care." She shrugged before stuffing the last few fries in her mouth and crushing the brown paper bag into a ball before looking around for a trash can that she obviously wouldn't find on a roof. Looking a little frustrated at her inability to throw her trash ball somewhere, she disappeared with a pop and a pink cloud of smoke, before reappearing only seconds later with a satisfied smile and empty hands.

"… did you just teleport to throw that out?"

"Gotham recycling plant" she smiled

Okay her powers definitely worked different than mine. I could see far from up here, but I couldn't see all the way to Gotham, much less a specific building. That was honestly a little scary.

"… Right."

"Well Coll, can I call you Coll?"

"No."

"Okay, well Coll, I gotta get going! Villains to catch and plans to foil! Thanks for the fries!" With a wave and a bright smile she disappeared in another pop and a plume of smoke.

"But… why was she even here?" I muttered incredulously

* * *

I'd been stuck at my apartment for most of a day, honestly dragging my feet a little. I knew I had ample reason to leave Metropolis for a day or two, not only did I have the time, but with my luck the past few days, I also had plenty of reason to go somewhere else. Thing was, I didn't know any of these cities, and I had no relationship with the powered community there nor the authorities there. I mean, I didn't have much of one here, but enough for me not to get shot on sight… probably. So whatever tenuous recognition and security I had here would be gone. Though that was sorta exactly what I needed. Anonymity at this stage _was_ my safety.

That aside, there were other reasons to leave, namely monetary, and getting my mom off my back. First, I needed this trip to scout out some more verdant, uhm, 'cleaning' areas. Metropolis was going a little dry for my tastes, and if I wanted to keep myself out of debt, a boost to my reserves would be very, very welcome. Besides, my mom had told me in no uncertain terms that I'd better get out of my apartment, or I could expect a visit from home, and I was under no illusions of who'd end up sleeping on the couch if my parents decided to drop by.

So with an overwhelming list of good to great reasons for taking a little break from Metropolis, even if no more than a couple of days, I was back to looking at prospective cities to visit. I'd already tried doing some of the research and mental math on what might make sense. I just hadn't progressed much beyond a little dilemma I'd come across – money vs. safety. There was very little doubt in my mind that Star City would be the safest bet. I mean, they had an archer in green tights, hardly world-rocking level of danger there - however well-trained the guy might be might. Most of the stuff I could pull up online kinda indicated the same when it came to the powered criminals operating there. Not quite the big names or fancy gadgets to steal, though probably arrows and other miscellaneous out the wazoo – a safe, but probably uninteresting payday. Central City however meant the goddamn Flash, someone I wasn't at all certain my powers would help me avoid. The powered competition there was a damn sight more interesting, with beam guns and techy stuff by the truck load. So potentially a much better payday, and doubtlessly more interesting. Unfortunately, it was probably just as doubtlessly _much_ more dangerous.

So, what do you do when you can't choose between two options? You find a third. I'd almost forgotten about it, but Misfit had mentioned something that stuck out, whether she realized it or not. Everyone these days knows about the great cities and their heroic defenders and yada yada yada. We knew about the Bat of Gotham, the Man of Steel here in Metropolis as well as the Flash of Central City as well as a slew of, shall we say, 'lesser' cities and powers. That's exactly why this 'Happy Harbor' place had stuck out like a sore thumb. A city that I didn't even recognize, but that had a large enough powered presence to have one of those nifty Justice League sponsored laundry-workshop whatever places? That shouldn't happen, unless the League went out of their way to throw them in any city larger than fifty thousand or so, which judging by how Misfit spoke, really wasn't liable to be the case.

So there was a workshop in Happy Harbor. A workshop implied things to fix and clean. Things to fix and clean implied supers to get things dirty and broken. Only I'd never heard of the place, which would kinda mess with my logic. So either the Justice League were a bunch of clowns, which costumes aside, didn't fit, or there was a secret group of supers running around Rhode Island large enough to require those kinds of services. Interesting.

Hoping to prove myself perceptive as opposed to paranoid, I booted up my computer before walking to the kitchen. Research demanded coffee.

I waddled back from the kitchen, a steaming cup of java nestled between my hands and relishing the heat it gave off. Even though it was pretty decent weather outside right now, my basement level of the apartment complex never really heated up completely. Part of that was due to the tiles that made up the floor. Not really sure why anyone thought tiles in a basement level in Metropolis was a good idea, but there they were, cold as a witch's teat all year round. Another pretty big factor was my distinct lack of full windows, meaning not only did I have very little natural light, the apartment also didn't get a ton of sun and heat. Thus, waddling around in flip-flops and sucking heat from cup of coffee like some wannabe thermal vampire. Beware all brown liquidly goodness! … On second thought, maybe not something I should advertise.

I all but fell into my desk chair, ignoring the dangerous creaking out of habit, and swirled to face my computer. Right. So might as well start with the basics and just google the damn place before moving on to more demanding resources, such as local papers, blogs and review sites. Between all of that, I'd inevitably get information that would either prove or disprove my little theory. At the very least, I'd get a pretty strong indication.

After a good couple of hours sifting through everything from road maintenance complaints to paranoid basement bloggers, me living in a basement purely coincidental, or so I told myself, a pattern started to emerge; Happy Harbor had all of the indications of being a city with an active super community. It wasn't just the absurd amount of damages to public and private property, though they were plentiful and some of them oddly… man-shaped. Those were more along the lines of correlation as opposed to causation, meaning that in this case, there _could_ be a connection, but that super's didn't necessarily have to be the cause. It was circumstantial at best, and moreover just one isolated 'field' so I kept on looking.

No, it wasn't until I started adding things together and tried to look at the whole picture, that I was more than convinced that something was happening here. Damages, weird aircraft flight paths, half-baked reporting that sounded awfully like re-told cover up scenarios. One thing took the prize though, the one thing no one can hide from, no matter where they are in the US: Insurance.

I got up from my chair, pacing back and forth my living room in a slight haze, mentally connecting dots and rechecking the information.

Premiums in the Happy Harbor area of Rhode Island were comparable to Metropolis levels, which, frankly speaking, should be all but impossible. Metropolis was one of the, if not the, largest city in the US in terms of population. Combine that with its role as the home of not one, but two Kryptonians and you have a metric shit ton of fights and damages, something I was all too intimately familiar with. Rest in peace car.

Not only that, but looking at premiums going back the past decade or so, a trend I couldn't ignored showed itself, one that I'd noticed in several of the other areas I'd looked into – especially city maintenance. Some years back, the numbers were comparable to now, to Metropolis levels, but that stopped, leaving a gap of several years, before starting back up just around two years ago. It seemed like whatever supers were working out of Happy Harbor had been there before, left and then came back. My research all but screamed that this was the case, and while I wasn't exactly some great detective, I had enough experience with treating sources and material and vetting for reliability and validity. This wasn't some fluke. Something was there, and that something was racking up damages and lazy reporting like a pig at an all you can eat buffet.

I dropped unto the couch, bouncing slightly on the springs, legs hanging limply over one armrest. Yeah, Misfit had let something slip alright… Question now was, what the hell was I going to do about it?

A definite point of interest with this city, was that for me personally, it might just be the friggin' motherload. A city with a large super presence, but with no reputation as such? No media-coverage of tights, spandex and strategically placed armor to be found, but a fairly obvious presence once you started looking – and judging from some local blogs that people had obviously dismissed, I wasn't the only one to connect the dots. I was looking at a, potentially at least, completely untapped vein of super-left-overs. I wouldn't have any competition, and if no one knew anything was there, there might even be a lot of it lying around.

I'd been stumped by Central and Star City due to weighing risk factors between safety and potential profits, and now I'd found something that could feasibly be any level of dangerous, but it would almost inevitably open up a new market of stuff I could 'clean', and that wasn't even factoring in these weird workshop and cleaning facilities. So now I had three cities. The safe and boring, the dangerous but profitable and the complete mystery. Well damn, I hadn't been reading much since the bookstore burned down, so I was on a lean diet in terms of mystery these days. And this one was just _begging_ to be solved – who the hell worked out of Happy Harbor? _Danger!_ One side of my brain screamed. _Money!_ The other part responded.

"Well shit, looks like I'm going to Happy Harbor"

* * *

After a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, I was nursing my obligatory morning coffee while looking up how long the drive to Rhode Island would take. I didn't much like the result. I wasn't exactly a stranger to long drives, and the five or so hours to Rhode Island wasn't really a long drive compared to, well, basically any other trip I'd ever gone on. So why did five hours feel like such a damn trial? I just needed to get on the road as fast as possible, put on some music and everything would be fine. Did my car even have gas? Wait… when was the last time I'd actually driven since I got it back from the shop? I could just teleport everywh-

"God damnit Will! You can't just teleport everywhere! You like driving!"

… Sure I did. Driving was good. Cool even. Long roads, fresh air, good music. Good times, Will, good times. I gave myself a few 'motivational' slaps on my cheeks, and packed two bags; one for snacks and music and the other for my… uhm, my work clothes? Sure, work clothes! I grabbed both of my packed bags, slinging them over the same shoulder while keeping hold of the straps – I needed my other arm to lock the door, and pick up the trash bag I'd just packed up. I'd need to pass the outside container on my way to the car anyways. No garbage chutes on the basement level, for obvious reasons, as the basement apartments were a later addition unlike the chutes themselves.

Keys jangling, and baggage precariously balanced over one shoulder, I half shuffled, half hopped out into the hallway and finally managed to lock up without dropping anything. Success!

I walked across the grounds of the building, briefly pausing to throw out the trash before going to the property's outside parking. I found my car exactly where I'd left it some time ago. Some time as in I couldn't actually remember when I'd last used it. There was a tad more leafs and grit on it than I was used to, and aside from the candy wrapper stuck on the windshield wiper it looked no worse for wear. With a sigh born of the inevitable five-ish hours I'd have to spend in it, I open the door and almost lost my breakfast.

Someone, me probably, seeing as no one else used my car, had forgotten what smelled like a dump truck's worth of spoiled food in the car, and it'd been lying there for longer than I could readily remember. How in the hells did one forgotten lunch bag smell that bad! I stumbled backwards, a disgusted expression on my face, my clear hand reaching to pull the edge of my shirt over my nose. This was… bad. Like, 'five hours in a car and I'd pass out and die' kinda bad. Now if only I had some alternative viable means of transportation. One that would probably also cost less and only take a fraction of the time.

"god damnit…" Sure, fine, Whatever. I'd 'jump' there instead, despite that nagging voice disapproving somewhere in the back of my head. First though, I needed to roll down the windows a little and get that offal-smelling bag out of my damn car.

* * *

Clothes changed, and feeling oddly more comfortable that way, I stepped out onto the roof of my building. All right, here we fucking go. Worst case scenario I annoy some people who should be too far away to just drop by. I focused straight up, hoping to anyone willing to listen that I wasn't about to go splat. Deep breaths. Clear mind. Never mind the shaking. I pulled the mental lever, and the next thing I saw was the entire cityscape of Metropolis below me. I may have let out a feminine sounding 'eep' but no one was there to hear it. To me, that may as well have meant that it didn't happen. Solid logic Will, solid logic.

Before gravity started talking hold for real, I focused on a point in the air above the city center and 'pulled' again, instantly transporting there. I only just managed to look down at the spinning globe atop one of the high rises before I refocused and jumped again. Now just for the next couple of dozen, if not hundreds, of jumps.

Getting to Happy Harbor turned out to be about as fast as it was terrifying, which is to say, a lot. In the weeks following my run-in with Barrage, I'd experimented with what I'd learned – namely combining my ability's lack of, erh, 'kinetic transference' or whatever with teleporting straight up to give myself a better view, and by proxy wildly increasing the range that I could 'jump'. I imagined it would look a little odd if anyone noticed, but fortunately with my new goggles and its highly effective night vision, that meant I could now teleport in near darkness. I was now sorta also a threat after four pm in the winter. Go goggles! Unfortunately, it was a slightly dim morning at best, but technically I wasn't doing anything illegal. Probably. So I'd be fine. Probably.

Making a series of quick and record-breakingly long teleports, only interrupted by checking my phone's GPS, I made it to Happy Harbor in a little less than an hour, meaning I'd probably arrived more than six times as fast as I would have in car. Not bad. And after playing around a little with distances, and having seen some of the geography between Metropolis and here, I was confident that I could at least half that time. The flip side though? I was fucking beat. I felt like I'd just done a marathon session at the local gym, only without the shaking muscles, but all of the exhaustion. I knew I needed a short rest before I was ready to go scout around… I also needed to check my underwear. You really haven't tried scary until you're more than a thousand feet in the air with no parachute. Now do that dozens of times and see how far 'courage' takes you.

* * *

After a little rest at a coffee shop, and a visit to their bathroom, I found out that not only did I recuperate from 'jumping' a lot faster than say, the marathon it'd felt like, but I also hadn't soiled myself. There was no, heh, collateral damage so to speak. Okay, so maybe I was still a little tired. Waiting for the cup of coffee I'd just poured down to kick in and banish some of the post-teleport cobwebs, I managed to send a picture of myself in the coffee house with one of those geo-tag thingies on it to my mom. Proof positive that I'd actually taken a break, and that she and my dad didn't need to come down and save me from the crushing loneliness that was a short break from school. Yeah, sure mom, that's how it works. Those school breaks, terrible really. I snorted a little at before pressing send, and leaned back while closing my eyes. Just resting them. Honest.

A sharp 'ding' sounded, making me jump a little in my chair and turn towards the door where what looked like a couple of teenagers walked in. Couple of really fit teenagers. I guess the high schools here had some pretty good athletic programs judging from the tired looking blonde in the sweat pants, and the tall black guy in a standard jeans and t-shirt combo.

The blonde was already talking before she had a foot in the door, a whining pitch to her voice.

"why couldn't I just have-"

The big guy walking behind her stared straight ahead, not even bothering to meet her gaze.

"Because walking is good for you."

"But I could've just-"

"You could've. I couldn't. We're walking. The end."

"… Fine. You're carrying the coffee then."

"Sure, I guess you're paying for the coffee and donuts then?"

A disgusted noise came out of the blonde, before a capitulating sigh sounded

"I'll just carry the coffee. Happy to help. Why are we up this early anyway?"

"Because we have responsibilities that can't wait on your beauty sleep, Cass."

"We could've saved some time and just sent Bart you know"

The big guy narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing.

"Bart is our friend, not our delivery boy. You need to learn a little responsibility. Now come on."

"…Fiiiiiine" the blonde whined.

Well that was actually amusingly familiar to my own time in high school. I mean, I'd probably be the one whining and shirking responsibilities, but still. When the black guy built like a linebacker glanced around the shop and found me looking, he seemed a little embarrassed about the whole thing, but I merely smirked and gave a small shrug, as if saying "what can you do?" I got a pained smile in return before he turned back to the register and finished the order.

I'm fairly certain the blonde hadn't noticed anyone in the store - hell she didn't even really seem to notice the teenager manning the register, much less me. Ah well, as interesting as the local high school crowd was, I was actually here for a reason that didn't include coffee. I grabbed my coat and bag, sending a pleasant smile at the teenage girl suffering behind the counter, before walking out the door.

Rhode Island in the early morning hours was a fair bit colder than I'd been used to in Metropolis, but it was also far closer to the climate that I grew up in further west, so I couldn't complain too much. I'd also been lucky enough to avoid any morning fog rolling across the bay, so I could actually start my little scouting operation without any real handicap. Well, aside from the fact that this was my first time ever in Rhode Island, so I didn't remotely know my way around. Fortunately I'd tagged a bunch of different places on my phone's GPS. Thank god for the twenty first century!

I teleported to the first available flat roof and settled my bag in front of me. I figured the middle of a roof would leave fewer prying eyes than a phone booth or some alley somewhere. Fun fact; not a lot of people wandering around on roofs. I reached in to the bag, quickly pulling out my techy goggles, half of the buttons and features still completely unknown to me and got in settled without catching my hair on the rim. Pulling on my coat and unfolding the half-mask up to the bridge of my nose, I was ready to take off.

* * *

The impression I got from standing on one of the taller buildings in Happy Harbor was, that the place was pretty small. Maybe quaint was the right word, but it really wasn't too large of a town, and the only real distinguishing feature outside of some beaches that were probably pretty damn nice in the summer, was a mountain rising on the edge of the city, ringed by beach and sea almost all around its circumference. That was actually helpful. Smaller cities meant less places to look. Especially for that elusive JL-sanctioned workshop and repair facility. Or, I mean, Laundromat extraordinaire. Whatever the hell it is. Point is, it's liable to have a stock of super stuff in various states of disrepair, and if I found their 'reject' pile, I'd basically have a victimless crime, and a victimless crime isn't _really_ a crime at all.

Thanks to my little research session the day before, I did have a few ideas about its location. Some of that was borrowed from paranoid bloggers, but others were more a case of common sense. If you were toting around superhero gear, you wouldn't want to walk around with it on the main street, or any of the streets that had heavy foot-traffic in general. Optimally you wouldn't want to walk around with it at all. So that meant back streets, of which there were unsurprisingly few of in a city of this size, as well as the buildings of appropriate size just outside the city center. Subtract apartment listings and obvious no-goes like smaller ordinary shops, pharmacies, etc. and I was left with fairly few locations. Using review and rating sites, I'd eliminated a fair amount of other potential locations.

The largest issue remained however. How secretive were these places? Had the JL founded them, or were they just kinda licensed or something? Private but subsidized, or wholly JL property? If it was the former, then I should be able to cross reference all of my research above with simple business listings for something involving repair, refurbish and permits for dangerous materials, but if it was completely closed off and only for JL members or, JL 'subsidiaries' then there'd be no reason to advertise anything. If that was the case, I'd never find it in a million years, as I'd be looking for a specific grain of sand on a damn beach.

Hopefully though, the JL had better things to do than create entire secret franchises for cleaning and fixing super gear. My bet was on the license thing, but fortunately, I wasn't putting all my chips on finding the cleaning place. Partially, and perhaps more importantly for my steady income, I was here to verify that it was indeed an active location for supers, and it being kept on the down low, meant I should be able to find some leftover scraps from where fights had taken place. That was my current mission, and the reason for all the little nifty points on my GPS, the first of which I was currently standing on. On a roof. Yeah. There were supers here all right.

I looked at the clearly man-shaped crater in front of me, sloppily filled with some cement mix, and doing an absolute terrible job of hiding the result of a super powered showdown. Normal people didn't crater rock several inches down, leaving an almost full imprint, with stress lines tracing from the impact. Nor, I imagined, did they leave fist indents or what I imagined to be launch positions judging from the roughly foot-shaped depressions. I noted the damages, wondering at the power set of the people operation out of here, and quickly figured out that getting into a fist fight with whomever made those craters seemed like a real fast way to get irreparably hurt. Good thing I wasn't really liable to do any fighting.

Most of the other places on my little 'super damages' map was only conspicuous for the absolutely amazing job that had been done to fix them. There were reports of various degrees of damages, but most spots were downright pristine. Too pristine, in fact. I probably wouldn't even have noted that, were it not for the sloppy roof-job I started at.

I kept on looking, and quickly found a bit of a tendency. Everything at street level or building facades was fixed entirely – better than new even, but the few places that didn't have heavy foot or car traffic like alleys, some roofs and spot or two on the outskirts of the city were far less pristine. It seemed like, if the place was out of sight, it was also, at least partially, out of mind. If I wasn't convinced at the first spot, I sure as hell was now. To be fair, the broken pieces of metal embedded in the tough ground in front of me were hard to dismiss, so too was the lone arrowhead embedded in a branch and missing the shaft itself – maybe someone had tried to pull it out? All I knew is that it was hard to find, and without my goggles I wouldn't have, but it was definitely there.

I returned towards city, if only to get a little food before heading back towards Metropolis. I was getting close to a Mexican restaurant I'd tagged, when I heard what sounded like a muffled scream, and some grunting. It sounded like a fight, and one of the voices was female.

… I was only going to get closer to sate my curiosity. Truly. I 'jumped' to a roof closer to the alley the noises were coming from, and inched closer to the edge on all fours, keeping my profile low, not caring for the dirt and grit that'd inevitably get everywhere on my clothes. I was just curious I told myself, I wasn't playing at any heroics.

A couple of more grunts sounded, forcing me to inch the last of the way across the roof. Stupid dangerous conscience! I peeked the top of my head over the edge, my breathing strangely controlled and my body taut with tension.

"You big brute!" the feminine voice laughed, before a moan escaped her.

Oh god. What had met my eyes was not, uhm, not what I imagined. Not at all what I imagined! I scrambled backwards blindly in an awkward crabwalk, half in panic and half in abject embarrassment. I finally got on my feet, the moaning continuing from the alley in front of me, I rushed a teleport so I could get away from the picture in my head and the noises, oh god the noises! I pulled the 'lever', instantly disappearing, only to reappear with a sound of something metallic, and then vertigo took hold, the entire world tilting. The nothing.

When my eyes opened a few minutes after, I was lying on my back and staring at the evening sky. I rolled over and gingerly touched the back of my head, my gloves coming away a little dirty, but dry. Well that was a relief!

For a minute or two, I was on my hands and knees, simply trying to figure out what the hell had happened. Sure, I'd stumble a step or two while teleporting, that still happened even now. I'd even smashed into a wall while trying out my powers a while back, and I'd gotten some bumps and bruises trying out new things, but I'd never managed to fuck up a 'jump' that badly before. That's when I remembered the noise. There was something metallic! I looked around on the roof, turning on the low light vision in my goggles to find the offending object. There! An oblong shape, green-grey through my goggles was lying on the roof a few feet from me. A pipe? I crawled over, wincing a little at the rapidly building headache. I reached out and rolled the pipe-shaped object over. It looked like, well, a pipe. Only it wasn't hollow. I slowly got up on one foot, and then carefully all the way up, palming the 'pipe' on the way up.

It was pretty dinged up, and it looked like it'd been painted or something. It was pretty light – too light in fact for what essentially looked like a metal stick. Looking closer at it, it had, I didn't quite know what they were, but seams of a sort at both ends. I had no idea what it was, but I'd figured out that one man's trash was another's treasure. I'd keep the stick. Maybe it'd come in handy.

Pulling off my goggles and removing the now damp winter half mask, I got down to street level. I needed some food and a chance to wait out the headache.

One thing I knew for certain though, I wasn't done with Happy Harbor - I'd be coming back.


	9. Chapter 9 - Horses and Gifts

**AN:** Hey. First three-week chapter release. I already knew this was bound to happen, which is why I originally stated somewhere that updates would be between one to three weeks, and lo and behold. Well, without boring people too much about my personal life etc. I had two trips out of country in as many weeks, so that took away some time from writing, which left me in the situation of publishing a very short chapter after two weeks, or a full-sized one after three. Fair warning though, I'm moving (permanently I might add) from Europe to the US before too long, and that might mean a little downtime here and there as well. Nothing that'll stop me from posting entirely, but it might mean a couple more three week updates instead of the two-week ones I've usually done.

With all that said and done, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

 **Chapter 9 - Horses and Gifts**

I was bone tired, worn down, not enough sleep and much too little measureable success of any kind… Up until five minutes ago, all of that was true. I'd found it. Like really actually _found_ it! Sure, it'd been a lot harder than I'd assumed, and maybe, just maybe I'd given my budding detective skills bit more credit than I should have. All of that didn't matter though, cause I'd fucking found it! ...Well, to be fair, I'd appealed to the gullibility and stupidity so abundant in humanity, and let that do my work for me.

In the end, finding that damn cleaning or workshop or whatever the hell _they_ formally called it, hadn't had much to do with my gumshoe boots-on-the-ground skills, but rather my ability to play a young super-in-need online. Sure, I'd felt a little dirty fooling some witless probably-dude into spilling the beans, especially as I'd never specified my own gender in our interactions. Ugh. Better be big pile of golden refuse waiting for me after this, 'cause I needed something big to get the bad taste out of my mouth. Fortunately, valuable trash seemed like just the thing to do the trick.

I hadn't gone straight to baiting people online though, I'd actually been back to Happy Harbor almost a full dozen times over the past two weeks, but no matter how small of a "big city" it was, there was still too damn much ground to cover, and I had too few resources for such a search. That's when I figured that I might not have those resources or knowledge, but someone out there probably did. _Someone_ had to have seen something like the workshop I was looking for, and with the right, and depressingly easy lure, I'd gotten that information.

The less said about that the better though. Now what had convinced me that it was the right place, wasn't simply a message and an unhealthy amount of trust – no, I'd just been there. It had honestly been an unassuming building, and if not for the degree of security there, I probably wouldn't have been entirely convinced. I mean, there was a whole bunch of newer model security cameras spaced out on the building in question, as well as on the heavy fence encircling the otherwise anonymous building. The interesting part though, was that near as I could tell, most were pointed towards nearby rooftops as opposed to street level were most normal criminals would come from. It's not like that was definitive, but it was a strong enough indication to be interesting on its own. It wasn't though – alone that is.

Beyond the perimeter of the metal fence, there was another cluster of small and almost invisible cameras pointed _towards_ the building in question. I wouldn't have found them myself, if I hadn't almost stepped on one after a jump. Knowing what to look for after that, I managed to find another half dozen spread around, though I'd probably missed some in the darkness. I wouldn't have found any of them without my goggles though, the low-light vision being a major help. Not only could I see pretty damn well in the darkness of night, but the zooming function also meant I wouldn't have to get too close to the building itself. Not that I'd let that little detail stand in the way of almost stumbling over one of those hidden cameras.

At this point, I kinda suspected that the entire point of the first set of cameras on the building itself as well as the perimeter was to just warn of the usual non-powered criminals, and the incompetents on rooftops. The smaller, much more cleverly hidden, was probably the real surveillance network, and the one they relied on to ID any potential powered criminal. Regardless, I might not be a genius or even the most practiced at this sort of thing, but I did have caution and thoroughness on my side, and where that wasn't enough, I had my gadgets. Well, gadget. Singular.

The building wasn't overly large, but nor was it the size of a standard house. It only had two floors that I could see and no sign of a basement. There was a small parking space on one side of the building, and what looked like a small on and off-loading dock attached towards the parking side of the building – I guess that made sense when cleaning and repairing on what I assumed was industrial scale. Besides, I didn't really know what this place limited itself to cleaning or repairing outside of the super crowd's stuff- didn't particularly care either though. I wasn't casing the place in order to steal anything of real value, just the scraps that I could sell and no one would miss anyway.

From what I observed though, cameras, both pointed towards and away from the building wasn't my only problem. There were guards. Not armed or anything, not that I could see at least, but at least two different people had made a sort of brief patrol around the building over the few hours I'd been looking.

For most powered people, the problem here wouldn't be getting in; it would be not triggering every single alarm in the place, and having your face plastered all over morning TV the next day, and that was not even considering how the local powered crowd would react. Quite a dangerous proposal for almost any powered individual. Unless you know, you could just stand several buildings back and teleport through any uncovered window. If I did this right, not only wouldn't anyone notice me, but they might not even notice having a little less trash lying around, at least not enough to cause a stink about it.

Now that I knew where the building was, I also had some more options in figuring out where to go from here. One of them, would require a little, erhm, 'aggressive' use of my taxpayer dollars. I mean, looking at some blueprints after hours seemed pretty innocent all things considered, and the more successful my little run at the cleaning/workshop place was, the less problems there'd be for anyone involved - and that's exactly what the blueprints would help me with. I might be able to almost-instantaneously transport myself within line of sight, but it helped knowing the building I was in, where windows were located etc. and it would definitely help my search once I was there, if I could figure out the size of any potential basements, or just any odd places they might have covered up depending on their paranoia. All in all, it was just sensible preparation on my part. I might be a rookie all things considered, but I didn't have to be a stupid one!

I had at least one little detour before I'd brave the Happy Harbor workshop location, but one that was far more manageable. It wasn't like I was trying to break into some super secure government facility, it was just one small part of a city hall in a negligible city, located in an equally negligible state.

This brought me to the next point on my agenda: A safe house. Not for me, mind you, but for all the stuff I'd hopefully have to hide and sell piece-meal over the coming months. I figured that having a pile of technically-stolen stuff crowding my own apartment probably wasn't a fantastic idea, so I'd done some deep thinking about what could work. My solution? One that was bound to be pretty effective, albeit not one I was particularly proud of - though that was mostly because of the source of inspiration that led me there.

See, I'd already stumbled over a region that was filled to the brim with empty buildings and a very slim police presence. In fact, I'd estimate that the single largest population group in that region was a tie between petty criminals and the homeless.

…Okay, so fine, it wasn't exactly the safest place in the strictest sense of the word, but it was a place where people didn't go exploring, and if they did, it had unpleasant consequences. But among all of human misery and crime, there were tons of buildings with no one in them, and I'd already proven that I was able to operate there with no one the wiser. Sure, my memories of the old Metropolis harbor and warehouse district weren't exactly fond, and I could have done with less gunfire or any fire really last time. And the less said about Intergang and Barrage the better. But then again, I didn't 'technically' have to set even one foot on the ground there. Now I just needed to find a building that suited my needs and was remote enough for most other people.

* * *

I'd suited up, or as suited up as I ever got, and gone on a small stroll towards the old harbor and warehouse district. And by stroll, I of course mean I was jumping from roof top to roof top as fast as my ability was able to take me, which is pretty damn fast once I'd learned to focus past that initial blur. It took a decent bit of concentration making this amount of consecutive jumps, but with the distance I could make between each jump, it only really felt like a light jog. I still hadn't quite figured out why teleporting seemed to leave me tired both physically and mentally, all I knew was that longer jumps took more out of me, and fast, consecutive jumps even more so. The only jumps worse than those, were the ones I didn't initiate myself. Now those were the scary ones, as they didn't really seem to operate on the same principles, and left me in far worse shape than any other type of teleportation I could manage.

I really was getting some damn good mileage with my jumps these days. Not sure why, but it seemed like I needed less jumps to get to where I needed, and the process was a little smoother –as in I fell over my own feet a lot less than just a month ago. Might just be the goggles helping out with how far and how clear I can see stuff, which would translate into longer jumps I guess, but it felt like it was _more_ than just that. It was a question for another time though. I was standing on the tallest building I could find with an overlook of the harbor and warehouse district. It felt odd being back here. I think I'd subconsciously avoided coming back here after my run in with Barrage and the police, and much as I didn't really want to come back, I couldn't ignore how optimal it might be for a small and hidden safe house.

Taking a deep breath in the cold night air, and hugging myself tightly despite the jacket, I looked over the disorganized rows of warehouses encircled by cracked pavement showing honest to goodness cobblestones underneath. The district looked its age that was for damn sure. It wasn't particularly surprising though as most large and old cities had areas that were either ravaged by time or neglect, and this damn place had taken a beating from both.

Sighing as I looked over the broken red-brick behemoths, I took a step forwards while pulling the metaphorical tether of my power, making my next step land on the roof of one of the warehouses. The lack of creaking was at odds with the state of the exterior of the building. I guess they built for the future back then, which I suppose given Metropolis' moniker, was a tad on the ironic side.

I walked the spine of the raised roof, idly looking at near-identical warehouses on both sides. Nothing really caught my eye, which wasn't to say that nothing was relevant, just that everything seemed equal fitting at this range. Seemingly abandoned? Check. Run down and uninviting? Check. Problem was, that fit everything I could see.

It took a while for it to occur to me, that the sheer anonymity and brutal blandness of the buildings was probably also their greatest value. I could pick any one of these buildings and they'd fit to a tee for what I had in mind. I did have a few considerations that needed to be kept in mind, such as being a few blocks in, so that it was at least somewhat distant from the edge of the more densely populated and newer parts of Metropolis. Looking around at the buildings surrounding me, that particular demand didn't seem like much of an issue.

I'd jumped a little further in, and decided that I might as well start on the tedious process of checking the insides of some fitting warehouses. A few I had to discard simply due to being too _neat._ That might seem odd, but if I didn't want people to frequent my little safe house, it probably wasn't the best idea picking one of the nicer ones - didn't want to share my space with some enterprising crooks or some desperate homeless people or druggies after all. So when I stepped into the ground floor of one of the potential safe houses and almost stumbled over a rat the size of a small housecat, I knew I might have struck gold. I mean, the smell alone would scare away anyone, but the massive rat looked like it might be an active threat if you fell asleep in its vicinity. I walked to the old cargo elevator, smiling slightly when I saw that the cable wasn't broken, it was just _gone_. No one was going to be using that anytime soon, even if the building was still on the power grid. I walked into a small entrance hall running adjacent to the main storage space, and quickly found a creaking stairwell at one end. So far so good. The stairs still seemed functional, right until I reached what would have been the steps to the third floor. There were none - stairs that is. Instead there was a wreckage of wood and detritus rising a few feet into the air, almost pointing towards the whole in the ceiling above. Perfect!

A smile plastered on my face beneath the half-mask, I quickly walked out to the weed-choked ground in front of the building and looked up. Two small jumps later and I was standing on the roof of the building I'd just been in, and was searching for a small rooftop window, much like the one I'd found on Intergang's warehouse a few months back. I would have missed it, if not for a dangerous-sounding creak under my foot, which made me skip away quickly, a chill going down my spine. Would have been all too easy for my foot to go through the window and mangle my leg. I turned out I hadn't spotted it, for the simple reason that it wasn't actually visible beneath the cover of ancient leafs and mold growing on it. A little cleaning that would probably cost me my right glove, and I could see into the last and third story of the warehouse. It was blessedly empty of detritus and I couldn't see any movement through the dirty glass. The floor looked fine though, so with a mental pull, I was kneeling right beneath the still-closed window.

"This'll do beautifully." I breathed out, a smile coming back on my lips. Now I just needed to transport a few things I might need here.

A few longer trips and a couple of hours later, and I was sitting on a fold out chair in front of a semi-scorched desk along with some old crates. The desk was compliments of an old office building were I'd practiced my powers a few months back, and also happened to find my first real souvenir from a super powered fight – I still hadn't actually sold the intact green arrow I'd found there, and at this point, I wasn't sure I ever would.

The most noteworthy aspect of the room at this point, was that half the stuff I'd teleported in, wouldn't physically have been able to fit through the smashed top of the stairwell, nor through the window that I strongly suspected wouldn't open again, nor would it ever have fit even a _fraction_ of the desk. My power really was good at cheating like that, as it didn't care a whit for what should be possible. As long as it didn't weigh too much, I could get basically get anything through anywhere I could see. Such as, say a tiny and dirty roof top window or even a keyhole should it prove to be necessary.

I'm not sure exactly what triggered it, but from one moment to the next, I went from sitting leaned back, pretty damn satisfied with the day's effort, and mentally congratulating myself when the thought crashed into my head. I was sitting in a safe house. A hide out… a… a bolt hole really. I was sitting in an inaccessible part of an abandoned warehouse, in an abandoned district with rats, homeless people and petty criminals as my new neighbors. One thought led to another, and I realized I was sitting here out of necessity, because I was planning on having to hide a bunch of stuff that, if someone was being a little less generous than me, would say was stolen. Stolen from a heist I was currently planning. I, I wasn't quite sure what to do with those thoughts, and I wasn't entirely sure I liked the picture they were painting. If it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck…

I shook my head a little. "No… no that's not right.." I muttered, my eyes squinting in confusion. No, it wasn't that simple. I wasn't some petty criminal just thinking about his next payday or taking some perverse sense of joy in exploiting others. In fact, I wasn't exploiting anyone at all. Hell, I'd even helped! My actions, regardless of motivation had saved dozens of cops from Barrage, and I'd, hesitantly perhaps, saved several more officers following that.

Sure, I wasn't a boy scout, nor was I under any illusion that what I was doing was even particularly ethically defensible in today's society, but I did go out of my way not to be a _bad_ person. That had to count for something.

Besides, I wasn't doing this for shits and giggles damnit! Life had been kind of a jerk lately, so I'd done what everyone would when served with a moving truck filled with lemons, I'd made some goddamn lemonade. I'd quit one terrible job for the promise of one far, far better, one I was legitimately looking forward, only to see that literally burn to the ground in front of me.

Was that smoke? I took a deep breath through my nose.. no.. no smoke, just an overactive imagination. The ghost of a wail of pain and terror forced my eyes shut. I hurried to my feet, stiffly walking in circles around the space. Best not to think too much about that day.

By sheer force of will, I banished the images, smells and sounds. No, I wasn't someone who'd ever do something like _that_. I'd do anything to stop something like that happening. I just wasn't dumb enough to go looking for a fire in order to put it out – metaphorical or not.

I took a deep another deep breath, shaking my hands and rolling my shoulders to release some of the tension that had build up. I jumped to the roof again, or rather first above the roof through my view out the window, and then down to the actual roof, before sitting down near the window. The wind and sounds of the city helped take the last edge off, and I finally got my thoughts in order. No, I wasn't just playing the petty thief for laughs or any thief _really_. I'd gone for the legitimate avenues first, and those hadn't worked out, through no fault of my own, I might add. I also wasn't the person raising my insurance premiums, wrecking two cars or even the douche at the Met U who decided that tuitions should keep increasing. So, stuck between a financial rock and a hard place, I'd decided to make a little use of the powers that I hadn't asked for, and had only gotten by virtue of being collateral damage of one of Metropolis' infamous super brawls.

It wasn't really even theft, minor, petty or otherwise. The small stuff I'd found and sold off over the past couple of months hadn't even meant breaking into anything. They'd honestly just been lying around the scenes of super fights, like so much broken concrete and glass. Sure, my current situation, my, uhm, 'heist' was a different caliber of sorts, but it was still the same theme. I mean, it was basically just some fairly innocent trespassing, and what I'd take would just be useless trash to anyone else anyways. I mean, I'd get the outrage if I'd stolen thrash out of a bank or something, which could have some sort of potentially sensitive financial information, but this would literally be a some scraps of dirty clothing and maybe half a boot or cape or some such. Hardly the stuff of super villains, though not quite the stuff of super heroes either, but that was more than acceptable to me, as I was neither and only a superficially and unwillingly connected to that entire community.

The way I saw it, it was like getting some day-old bread from a dumpster behind a bakers shop. Not strictly speaking legal, but on the face of it, milder than jaywalking, and far more ethically defensible. Kind of a victimless crime actually, in the sense that victimless crimes by their definition have no victims, and if there is no victim, should I really care about the technical legality of it? I mean it might not be legal, but it could still be morally defensible, right? It's not like the Feds were knocking down doors left and right for the tens of millions who downloaded last year's summer blockbuster, or this year's scantily clad pop-princess' new single, to say nothing of streaming and everything else.

No, maybe this was a… unique, a novel, way of perpetrating a victimless crime, but ultimately, it wasn't much different. Besides, this wasn't really a hideout or a stash or anything, it was merely a hard to get to storage unit that no one knew I had. Simple. Yeah, that made more sense actually. Despite how it might appear, this really was just a storage space. I'd be storing what to anyone else amounted to trash anyway - it wasn't like I was going to have gold ingots or alien tech here.

Feeling like I'd actually achieved something, I got up from the roof, briefly pausing to check the time on my phone. I idly thumbed away a missing call and some un-read messages from some people from class. That stuff could wait for a little while; I had a job to prepare for. Putting my phone back in my pocket, I stepped off the roof and made my way home.

* * *

The blue-cloaked figure of the Martian Manhunter slipped quietly through the roof of the old building, landing within the hidden underground floor without a sound.

It didn't seem to surprise the emerald archer though. "Took your sweet time J'onn!"

The green Martian merely cocked his head, perhaps expressing confusion, or maybe even exasperation, though guessing at the inner thoughts of a truly alien being had always seemed like a losing proposition to Green Arrow. That never stopped him from trying to elicit some sort of reaction, however hard those reactions might be to interpret. Wasn't healthy being that stoic all the time, he figured. Life was easier, _better_ , with a few smiles and some honest to goodness human interaction, well alien interaction he supposed. No. Social interaction! There, that was more fitting as well as being very value neutral and inoffensive.

"Erhm, right" Green Arrow cleared his throat before starting anew "So, you might wonder what I called you down here again?"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

A pained sigh escaped Green Arrow's otherwise cheerful façade, betraying just how distressing his interactions with the Martian could be. Before the façade cracked entirely, Green Arrow got out of the chair he'd been sitting on, and straightened up to his full height, once more wearing a bright smile.

"Okay then! So tell me why you think you're here J'onn"

"I am here, because you have come up with a plan. I have been waiting."

"Well. Uhm. Yes. That is actually why I- did you read my mind? You know that isn't particularly polite here!"

A raised eyebrow, and a hint of a quiver of on one side of his mouth "There is rarely need in your case Green Arrow"

Wait. Was that a joke? Or a burn? No – pride swelled in his chest – _progress_ is what it was!

A smile came unbidden to his lips, this one honest and stretching to include his eyes as well.

"Touché J'onn, touché! But yes, I've got a plan, the perfect plan in fact! What we're going to do is stage a fight, a public one, and make sure the cameras or reporters see me leaving without my bow, so that the 'collector'- "

The Martian Manhunter nodded absently "A tracker will be embedded in the bow?"

"… uhm, yes."

"And I assume I am to go to the signal once it has stopped moving?" he queried in that oddly flat voice of his.

"That would be the general idea" the archer stated tiredly, a small frown of annoyance on his face.

Another nod "and acceptable premise. Who will you fight?"

Oliver Queen's frown turned into a smile, obviously happy that J'onn hadn't guessed everything. "Oh you know, just a friend of mine who happens to be able to take any shape he wants"

J'onn paused for a long minute, tension building slightly, until he gave a soft nod "Acceptable."

"I knew you'd be up for it! With my natural charm and credibility, and your shapeshifting, we'll be sure to net us someone who knows about the increased traffic in Metropolis!"

"The plan does have some merit. Very well, contact me when you are ready."

Green Arrow was just about to answer, when the Martian Manhunter went intangible and quickly flew out through the roof of the room.

"Good talking to you to J'onn. Me too? Oh thanks buddy! Yeah, yeah, I know. You doing good or? Good! Me too…." With a heavy sigh, Green Arrow slid back into his chair, turning towards the central monitor and started tapping the keys in front of him, in what an uncharitable individual might have called a petulant fashion.

* * *

It turns out that finding the blueprints for the job was pretty easy. No alarms tripped, no guards that I'd noticed, and honestly very little security at all. So I found the physical copy that had been filed years before at the clerk's office attached to Happy Harbor's City Hall, took a few pictures with my phone and left just as quietly as I'd entered – which, when you don't actually have to physically move to, well, move, turns out is pretty damn quiet.

I'll admit, the experience gave me a much needed boost of confidence, and I did feel pretty slick ghosting in and out the place with no one the wiser.

Apparently there was a reason for how easy it was, and it honestly wasn't at all what I expected. I mean, I still did an amazing job with ghosting in and out without being caught, it just so happens that I never actually had too.

Turns out I might have watched too many movies and made some slightly unrealistic assumptions – blueprints are in fact not kept in secure compartments unless they're for secure or secret buildings, but are publically accessible. If the site had been run by the JL directly, that might actually have posed a problem, but from what I gathered, and my little trip to city hall seemed to confirm this, the Justice League merely used pre-existing cleaning and workshop type places and gave them a contract. So as the workshop isn't actually JL property, but merely a subcontractor of sorts, and as such just a standard private venture, I could literally just have walked in and taken a picture without having to teleport in, and thus technically commit a crime for something that was not only legal all along, but available to the public.

I sat on my couch, the feeling of abject coolness I'd had ever since pulling it off, starting to fray a little at the edges. It was still well done and all that, but it just hadn't, strictly speaking, been necessary. I took another sip of my morning cup of coffee, trying my best not to feel a little silly about the whole thing, when another thought entered my mind: Maybe I could have done it legally and all, but would that really have been a good idea? This was the age of bureaucratic overkill and big data after all, and I couldn't be sure that I wouldn't have had to sign in, or somehow been logged if I wanted to enter the clerk's office to look at blueprints, they might even have logged every single blueprint I'd looked at, and if someone was to notice me running away with their super-junk, wouldn't that be one of the first places they'd check? And oh, 'lo and behold, some random dude from out of town happened to look at blueprints for the recently burgled building, I wonder if there's any connection?'

Yeah, no thank you. Sipping my coffee again, my spirits seemed to be rising as fast as the cup was emptying. I had done a good job. Damn good job even, and even with the new information I had, I wouldn't and shouldn't have done anything different. I'd been covering my bases without even knowing it.

Leaning back, a sigh of contentment escaping from my lips, I picked up a book from my stack of to-read's, amused at the clearly eighties-inspired sci-fi cover, complete with hideous aliens and cringe-worthy space uniform. No matter how old I got, I don't think I'd ever understand the silly hair and colorful capes they always insisted on.

* * *

I was rudely interrupted in my reading, when the voice of a reporter started blaring from the speakers connected to my computer.

"We're live now at the scene…." A man's voice sounded, a whooshing sound in the background, and static making words twist and distort. Ah, probably a news-chopper then. I put down my book and turned my head, focusing on the next couple of sentences.

"It… eems like the… een Arrow of …tar City is in Metropolis". While 'tar city' made me smile a little, it wasn't too hard to figure out what they meant, which made this all too interesting. Stuff from Superman sold like gold, but the problem was that he rarely ever lost a boot or cape, and you couldn't really sell scorched bricks from his heat vision thingy, so going to the scenes of his fights was usually a lost cause. The people he'd beat up left a good deal more though, even if the market was much, much smaller. Green Arrow though? A collector's wet dream. Apparently as human as any of them got, he got knocked around enough to leave scraps of clothing and broken arrows left and right, and even the rare whole boot, hat or broken bow. He was a gold mind, and his mention meant putting down my book for good and getting dressed.

I could hear a scratching noise from the feed, and the words started clearing up – apparently someone was finally doing their job properly.

"Green Arrow seems locked in a fight with an unknown powered criminal. Tall, cloaked and is exhibiting signs of both durability, speed and strength. Green Arrow, the darling of Star City seems to be one step ahead though!"

Unknown powered criminal? Boo. Unknown meant the person wasn't liable to have a following online, and that meant nothing worth selling, even if they had mentioned anything aside from a cloak. Green Arrow was a good enough payday to get dressed for though. Arrowheads, fletching, you name it, all of it could be sold online, and most of it for more than you'd expect given his limited power set. Well, if puns and being able to hit really well with medieval weaponry could be considered a power set.

I finally got my other leg into my pants, and sat down to put on some socks, almost completely dressed at this point.

"This might get dicey folks, looks like Green Arrow is running out of arrows, and the unknown villain is still standing, though looking worse for wear"

I perked up at that, briefly ignoring the rest of the commentary. Running out of arrows was perfect! The more he used, the bigger my payday would be! Rushing to the kitchen to get an apple – or anything really – to eat before heading out, I almost missed the next tidbit coming from my computer.

"I repeat, looks like Green Arrow chased off the villain! But at a price ladies and gentlemen, the Emerald Archer's quiver is completely empty, but that last arrow must have packed a punch to send this unknown powered criminal running for the hills. Wait, what's this? It looks like Green Arrow is without his bow! Maybe that arrow made a mess of more than the villain!"

Wait. What? I'd never even seen more than fragments of his bow being sold online, and those always sold for serious money, the larger the pieces the better, and he was leaving without his bow? This was serious shit all of a sudden. If I could find even a few large fragment of the bow, I'd be in for an easy payday of several _thousands_ of dollars!

I spat out the apple hanging from my mouth and ran run for the door, only taking the time to pick up my little go-bag with my half-mask and goggles. I bypassed the elevator banks completely, too impatient to stand still for any amount of time, especially as I'd be stuck listening to elevator music of all things. Running up the stairs, taking two steps at a time more often than not, I finally reached the rooftop exit. I wasn't really supposed to use it, or rather no one was, but management still hadn't actually fixed the lock, and I sure wasn't going to report the damage. I stepped outside and oddly enough, I wasn't breathing quite as heavily as I thought that little bit of exercise should have made me, though I was a soon too busy stuffing my hand into the go-bag and pulling out the half-mask to actually think about that particular point for too long. I quickly dragged the half-mask down and over my face before slipping the fairly bulky goggles down over my eyes. Instantly the world got a little clearer, with buildings standing out in a little more detail, and the particulates in the air that'd usually create a sort of mild haze in any large city, was nowhere to be found. At any other time, I might have stopped and just appreciated how nice of a catch these goggles had turned out to be, as well as the pure luck that I had several spares in my apartment in case anything ever happened to them, but I had a goal, and to reach that goal I didn't have the time to congratulate myself on my good fortunes.

Somewhere in the back of my head, I realized that it didn't make any sense to run for the edge of the roof as my teleports didn't seem to transfer any kinetic energy, something that was probably a scientist's wet dream to make tests about, seeing as it, uh, kinda fucked with the whole Newton's one-oh-one on inertia where in my case, and object in motion, most definitely didn't have to stay in motion. Regardless, I ran, irrationally so, to the edge of the roof before teleporting in the direction of the area where the fight had been spotted. This little oversight of inertia and my teleporting led to a rather unfortunate situation though, as I teleported mid-sprint, but lost all of my forward moment in the jump, causing me to fall forward, picking up half of the gunk and detritus on my path as I tumbled and rolled over the roof I'd aimed for.

"Okay… let's not do that again" I mumbled in a pained voice, while I gingerly got back to my feet. Fortunately I didn't seem to have hurt anything other than my pride, and I suppose a little caution and humility wouldn't be a bad idea with what I had planned in my near future. I brushed off some of the gunk all over my clothing, until I realized that I was in fact doing no such thing, I was merely smearing it around more while also getting it over my gloves. Thanks afternoon rain – real nice.

Shaking off the last of the pain and disorientation from my little tumble, I took off again.

I arrived at the area where the fight had taken place, though I didn't really have to search, seeing as a news chopper was still hovering above, no doubt spewing meaningless post-fight commentary to all the fans of superheroes out there. Well, I'd gotten what I needed from their broadcast, so I focused on the building below and in front of me. It was a Queen Industries facility of some sorts, though nothing on the outside immediately let me know if it was an office building, or a production facility of some kind. It looked oddly empty though. Considering that it was in the middle of the day, I'd have expected more light through the windows, and more cars in the parking lot, but it was basically empty. Must be a company retreat or something, which I suppose they'd be pretty happy about once they heard the news. Looking around, I could see that there were definitely signs of a fight having taken place – small scorch marks here and there, some broken windows and even some cracked asphalt in the parking lot here and there. It didn't look too bad all things considered and probably wouldn't be too hard to repair. Truth be told, it rarely was with the Green Arrow – his power set or lack thereof, usually didn't allow for that kind of damage.

The sirens that I'd heard snippets of between my teleports were just getting within earshot now, meaning I had a very limited amount of time to find that bow before the whole place was locked down. Fortunately, with the almost conspicuous lack of bystanders and only the one news chopper, I shouldn't have any problem getting inside without being noticed. Of more concern however, was Green Arrow and the unknown power he'd fought, but Green Arrow had been seen leaving, and I just couldn't see him leaving like that if the power was still at large inside. I didn't have time to scout out the place though, as the police would undoubtedly pull up before I'd manage to do much of anything.

I took a deep breath, to steady my nerves, while slowly turning the dial on one lens of the goggles, gradually zooming in on the building in question. I just needed to find a…. there! One of the broken windows I'd spotted before gave me just a good enough view of clear and open space for me to teleport straight in, and as far as the chopper and its news-crew was concerned; no one had entered the building at any point. I pulled the metaphorical lever of my powers, and the next thing I saw, was the carpeted floor zoomed so close as the see the individual fibers. Slightly disoriented, I closed my one eye and opened the other while I fingered the dial on one lens, trying to get it back to normal. I still wasn't entirely practiced at zooming in and out while on the move, but it didn't take me more than a few seconds to find the default setting of the dial again. The building was dark though, as I'd noticed before, and I figured that with the police on their way, I might as well just hit the low-light vision settings on the goggles instead of trying to fumble around for light switches – besides, lighting up the place would probably make it a hard sell that no one was in here. I'm not sure entirely what this tiny branch of Queen Industries did, but it had a lot of standard office gear, along with an assortment what looked like high-end computers. Might be design or software development for all I knew, and I didn't really have the time to waste on more musing.

I ran through the second floor I'd jumped in to, and tried to find more marks of the fight. Reaching a broad central stairway, I hurried down when I saw an arrow embedded in the wall. I yanked it out of the wall, having to use both of my hands, and almost fell on my ass when it finally decided to give in. I could hear sirens even from inside the building now. Shit! Time was running out faster than I thought. The first floor looked much worse for wear, though still in pretty good condition if you disregarded the pieces of drywall that had been gouged out. I followed the holes in the wall, scratches and broken furniture until I found what looked like a lunch room, well lunch room sans door; the door in question imitating so much kindling around the entrance to the room. Poking my head into the room, I saw several arrows and a few odd canisters either embedded in the wall or scattered on the ground. Must've been where the fight had ended judging from the sheer amount of broken furniture and arrows lying around. I looked around the room, wondering what exactly Green Arrow had done to make the other power back off, or even to allow himself to escape. Maybe something in one of the canisters? Question for another time I decided, what with the ever increasing pitch of the sirens. I rolled the canisters into a plastic bag and stuffed that into my backpack. Didn't know if they'd sell, but after having seen some of the other stuff online, I definitely wouldn't discount the possibility. I snatched up a couple of broken arrows, some of them without any arrowhead, but with something that looked like mounting brackets at the end instead. Maybe for the canisters or some other purpose.

I couldn't find the damn bow though! This was already a better score than what I usually managed. Depending on a selling price for the canisters, it was a much better score actually, but a bow it was not. And the bow would mean semesters of free school... If not years. A few slaps of motivation later, and I was about to leave the room to look somewhere else, when I saw the broken vending machines. Everything rational in me shouted that I didn't have time for this, but I'd always been a fair hand at strangling that little voice of reason when it reared its ugly head. I mean my current activities weren't exactly staying true to the whole 'keep your head down and muddle along' mentality, but sometimes that had its advantages too. Following my gut, I went over to the vending machine, and reached in to its compartment and fished out a bottle of coke. I only just managed to get the bottle out, when the sirens were accompanied by a screech of tires. Okay, so maybe sometimes I shouldn't go with my gut feeling. I turned around with a little shake of my head, slightly disappointed at not getting my hands on that bow when I noticed the coat rack. What was odd wasn't the coat rack, but rather that it was entirely untouched. Like, the only piece of furniture in the room. And a dark green bow was hanging by its string in as pristine condition as the coat rack it was hanging on. The image, so at odds with the rest of the room stunned me for a second, but the opening of a distant door snapped me out of it. The cops were here. With no other time for thought, I grabbed the bow and ran for the nearest window I remembered. I backpedalled out of the lunchroom and into the hallway I'd come from. I took off at a run, my hip grazing one of the little filing cabinets before taking a left turn into one of the office spaces I'd passed: An office space with a window overlooking the Metropolis skyline. With a breath of relief, I teleported to the roof of an upscale apartment building a few hundred yards away, finally giving my heart rate a chance to slow down.

I looked at the bow in my hand, marveling at the fact that I was holding the weapon of one of the more famous superheroes of America, before decided that parading it around on rooftops might not be the best way to keep quiet about that particular fact. I did have a place that would afford me all the privacy I needed to gawk at the bow as much as I wanted – It was time to make use of my little off the grid storage space. I turned towards the old warehouse district and was gone in the blink of an eye.

* * *

Back in my apartment, I was still riding a bit of a high after getting Green Arrow's bow and safely getting away with it. I'd dropped it off at my little storage room in the old warehouse district, and hopefully it'd stay hidden there, as the place was pretty inaccessible to all but the best cat burglars or daring parkour artists. Well, and people who could teleport. And maybe Batman. Probably Batman, I amended.

Shaking off unsettling thoughts of black cowls and swooping bats, I turned to my computer. Having the bow was all well and good, but what I could do with it, was what really counted. It would probably be a prize beyond compare if I knew anything about using a bow, but alas I was not of a mind to take up archery. So instead I was more focused on what I could sell it for, along with the couple of arrows and canisters I'd found. I figured there might be some extra value tied to having the bow and the actual arrows it'd fired - kind of like a full collector's edition as opposed to single article.

So I went online and opened up a few tabs to some of the domains where I'd sold stuff before. A few of the larger ones were preferable because of how organized they were; having actual search bars and filters, as opposed to just being basic image boards. I figured I'd start there, and try to hit the filter for weapons and superhero, to get a rough idea of how much the bow could potentially be worth.

I idly scrolled through a couple of pages, marveling at the amount of zeroes that were attached to some price tags. I mean, a baterang is cool and all, but five thousand dollars for a piece of aerodynamically shaped metal? Sure, it was in as mint condition as any I'd ever seen online, but even then, it seemed steep. In contrast, most arrows that were mint had an asking price of around half, and often lower. Not sure if that was due to popularity of the hero in question, or just the frequency of them dropping 'souvenirs' around. As with most things though, once it stopped being in almost perfect condition, prices fell pretty radically. Both pieces of a snapped arrow, half of a baterang or items in similar condition sold in the low to mid hundreds of dollars, which until now, is where I'd made most of my money.

Full weapons were rare though, and for a variety of reasons. You couldn't really sell Vigilante's six shooters if ever you came across them, or villain of the week's blaster gun, as that'd constitute some sort of illegal weapons trading. A bow though? As far as I knew you didn't really need a permit for that, unless you went hunting with it or something.

And that turned into a bit of a problem. There weren't a whole lot of active posts for what I assumed were a couple of reasons. Firstly, heroes probably weren't in the habit of losing their main weapons to begin with, and secondly, not a lot of heroes actually used weapons per se. Right now, there was only some odd shock-stick gizmo from one of the numerous side-kicks running around. Seemingly it was a bo-staff or some such from one of Batman's crowd where the head could discharge a pretty hefty electrical shock. If not for the prohibitive price-tag, it would probably make a pretty effective alternative to the baseball bat I'd lost against Barrage a few months back. I never did get a replacement for that, so aside from running away, I didn't really have a lot of choices if I was ever confronted. The staff did seem oddly familiar now that I looked at it though. It sort of looked like… frowning a little, I turned around on my chair and got up "where did I put it?" I mumbled softly, before with a jerk of my head in the direction of my spare room, I started walking. I started pulling bits and pieces to the side, scooting a box out of the way here and there, before going completely still. I raised an eyebrow and turned to the corner of the room, where a notched and discolored metal rod met my eyes. It did look little similar… I grabbed it in one hand and walked to the living room, before plopping down on my office chair again. I held the rod, or staff maybe, up in front of my eyes so it lay parallel to the image on my screen. It looked remarkably similar, but I suppose that didn't mean much when all I had to compare it too was another less dinged-up pipe-looking thing. It was supposed to have some sort of trigger for the electrical discharge though, and I just couldn't find any. I kept groping at the damn stick, poking it at the wall, feeling for any gaps or grooves, but there was nothing! I put the pipe bottom down, the butt of it resting on the floor between my feet and my head leaning against the cold metal. I guess it was too much to hope for. The weight of my head against the metal made the pipe roll out of my hands, but before it fell, my feet instinctively tightened around the butt, slowing its fall long enough for my grasping fingers to get a firm hold of it. The panicky action had cause me to use more force than I planned, and I ended up twisting the pipe, but instead of the entire thing twisting with the movement, only the top half of the pipe did. I felt a brief stab of pain and then everything went dark…

I woke up a few minutes after, everything oddly sore and tingling, like my muscles having overexerted themselves while having fallen asleep too. It was an odd phenomena, and for a while I just lay there, trying to collect my thoughts – thoughts that were a little hazy on the "how's" and "why's" of me being on the floor. My thoughts cleared up real fast when an uncontrolled jerk of my legs send the pipe rolling over the floor, and me instinctively rolled in the opposite direction. The pipe! Ow! But it worked! I mean, seriously, nasty amount of ow! but that was a useful damn tool to have… perhaps even a lot more useful than the baseball bat I'd lost, and I didn't have any particularly pressing need to sell it off right away, not with the bow just waiting to be sold, and probably for a hell of a lot more than this sidekick's drainage pipe of pain. I could always sell it if I needed the money down the road, but until then, it could double as investment AND protection. Now I just needed to figure out how to recharge the thing, as I figured lying around on a roof for god knows how long, probably wasn't conducive to its battery charge. It could probably also do with a light cleaning, and maybe sand or acetone down some of the remaining patches of color. I mean a yellow staff? Really?


	10. Chapter 10 - Finders, keepers

**AN: Surprise. Fic not dead. Bit of a wait. My bad.**

 **Chapter 10 - Finders, keepers; Losers, weepers**

My breath came out hard and fast, sounding like bellows to my straining ears, while my heart did a fair imitation of bass drums on steroids; deep and heavy, but much too fast for comfort. Regardless of my own auditory paranoia, clammy gloved hands and uncomfortably exposed position, I was in. Super-gear repair shop beware - have bags, Will use! Pun very intended.

I'd imagined… something. I'm not sure what. Alarms and shouting certainly, the Hollywood-numbed part of my brain might even have imagined gunfire or a surprise attack by some cape or other.

The realty turned out to be starkly different. I'd, well, prepared for most eventualities my paranoia could conjure up – Hell, I'd even brought the shock-staff I'd gotten so intimately familiar with a few days ago. What I hadn't really prepared for, even dared to hope for, was a seemingly empty office, followed by a short staircase and an even shorter hallway, leading to some sort of industrial hybridized cleaners and workshop. No locks, no alarm, no people outside of the two guards alternating patrols around the building. The floor and staircase were even pleasantly un-squeaky. I was pretty sure that if I had needed to, I'd been able to flip the light switches with none the wiser. Preparation had gotten me this far though, so I wasn't going to sabotage myself for a completely unnecessary light source, not when my handy goggles courtesy of Metropolis' seedy… well, seedy-ish underbelly gave me all the low-light vision a budding opportunist could ask for.

With a rustle of fabric on fabric, I pulled my backpack around to the front of my dark jacket, gently pulling out a cheap off-brand duffel bag, the twin of the other stuffed in there.

Despite my heavy breathing, it wasn't until I started looking around for anything that might fit in my bag, that I noticed the acrid smell of chemicals. It really shouldn't have surprised me though, between cleaning and repairing, there was bound to be smells related to cleaning and repairing, such as from soldering or heavy-duty chemicals. Hell, I imagined they went through a fair bit of bleach, which alone would account for a decent bit of the smell.

Made me worry a little for the poor people working here, though hopefully they had masks or maybe there was some sort of fancy-vent system hidden away behind one of the stations or class-door metal cabinets. Besides, if I liberated a few to-be cleaned and repaired items, I'd really be saving them from work-related asthma, which I figured, was a good thing. Maybe even good enough to outweigh the perhaps questionable act of taking them in the first place. Questionable, mind you, not bad, evil or villainous.

Fortunately, these people seemed to work normal hours, which would account for the complete lack of activity here at close to 1 AM. I walked as silent as I could, the rubberized flooring doing most of the heavy lifting, and looked for any sort container indicating new or recent arrivals. See I could theoretically vamoose with some of the repaired stuff (provided I could find it), but I figured that would piss off what-ever supers operated in this area a heck of a lot more, than a discolored boot or a shredded uniform top. As long as I didn't accidentally make off with something sensitive, they might look but not particularly hard… Or so I hoped.

"Call Superman, someone made off with my half-corroded belt buckle!" I chortled under my breath, while scanning the glass-faced cabinets. Nothing I could see in this room, but between the machines and worktables, I figured this was probably the actual workshop, and what I needed was probably stored somewhere further in. Fortunately, unless the shop threw me a curve ball, the blueprint liberated and copied earlier, told me that there shouldn't be much else than a docking station of sorts for cars and trucks. And where better to keep newly arrived items.

I'd already figured that I'd be going in this direction, but this part of the first floor had a conspicuous absence of windows, unlike the second-floor office I'd teleported in to. I didn't know enough about volatile chemicals to make a definite connection as to the lack of windows, but hey, the why's didn't interest me too much. This was very much a one-time trip, and I could play internal decorator in my head somewhere else – preferably a couple of hundred miles further south of Happy Harbor and Rhode Island.

Skirting the edge of the room, fingers trailing a stainless-steel table, I reached the heavy, windowed door leading to the dock. Not fear of alarms, but simple convenience had me jump to the other side of the door - the distance unnoticeable due to the already staccato-rhythm of my heart and my heavy breathing. The dock was completely absent of any artificial light, aside from a few diodes attached to what was machinery of one form or another, but the gate that would allow trucks to back up was made with alternating solid plates, and frosted plastic screens, which allowed some moonlight in. With my goggles, anything more than that would've been superfluous.

The brief sound of rubber soles scuffing against the hard floor startled me after the rubberized interior. Feeling a bead of cold sweat trailing down my back, I tried to convince myself that I was just in a state of hyper-awareness, and that no one outside of the dock would've been able to hear anything. Keeping the changed flooring in mind, I walked in slowly, looking for anything that might contain what I needed. What looked like an industrial freezer, size large enough to be a walk-in, covered part of the rear docking area, flush against a bunch of pipes and gently humming machinery. Probably compressors or something like that. Freezers had compressors, right?

Something unwelcome but not altogether unpredictable covered the handle and prevented easy access. A padlock. Well padlock might be doing the thing a disservice, as it, like the freezer-like box was created on an altogether different scale, and besides, since when did pad-locks have displays and fit over the entire handle, so as to prevent anyone from fully pulling the handle.

I'd considered a problem like this, but, well, slightly less high-tech. Namely I'd tested my ability to disable padlocks. And by disable I meant literally just holding it in my hand and teleporting a few steps away. Turned out that worked just fine, which would make me the preeminent burglar of yard-equipment the nation over had I the inclination. What it didn't do was guarantee any success with its monstrous brother here. Even worse, while this was as strong of an indication as I was likely to get of value it was also uncomfortably fancy and challenged my graying moral compass just a little. I mean, it seemed overkill to keep shredded or otherwise ruined uniform pieces in this thing, but not having seen the in-progress or finished stuff, maybe it was all kept in here. Made sense not having more than one giant walk-in lock box I supposed. Even if it truly wasn't a vault. No weird dials or spinning wheels or anything. Just weathered white plastic and a single handle on an even more weathered door. Only thing that seemed remotely new was the handle-lock.

Walking closer to the lock, I kept trying to convince myself that even if the repaired stuff was in there, I wasn't going to take any of it. The plan was still the same and removing a fancy handle lock wasn't much different than a padlock. Totally wasn't. Nope.

This is when it really would've been convenient to know anything about locks. Like anything at all aside from their intended function. Gently prodding the lock gave a slight metallic rattle, which did nothing but prove that it wasn't actually attached to the door, but only the handle. Huh. Maybe I could work with that. In principle that would been the same thing I already knew how to do with a padlock, just with a lot slimmer margin on the lock's proximity to its lock… handle… lock-ee?

Gently I grabbed the whole lock-plate and tilted it slightly with what a generous person might've called mildly shaking fingers. It took a few tries, and the sound of the plate scratching the door damn near made my heart burst, the sound feeling so loud that I was pretty sure anyone could've snuck up on me and whacked me over the head. But finally, after what seemed to me half an eternity, I managed to lift and tilt it in such a fashion that I couldn't hear or feel any contact.

"all or nothing buddy" I whispered to myself, happy that the goggles fit so well that the sweat from my hairline had no where to go but the foam-like substance that made the goggles contour to my face.

Glimpsing briefly to the side, I triggered the pulling sensation in the back of my head, and before my eyes could orient, I was standing a couple of feet away with a couple of pounds of detached locks in my hands. No alarms. No lights. Nothing but my own breathing.

Gently putting the lock down on the concrete of the dock floor, I walked back over to my target. Hopefully my target at any rate.

Squaring my shoulders, I grabbed and pulled on the handle. It took a little for the door to give, though there were no dramatic hissing noises or fog-like cold darting out around the edges. What was noticeable was the strong chemical smell, even worse than the actual workshop part of the building. That, the grates build into the floor, as well as what looked suspiciously like sprinkler heads in rows on the ceiling of the box. Did they fumigate the gear, or did they just spray some sort of washing solution, and more importantly, was it even remotely safe to breathe? … The big lock might not have been for theft come to think of it. Maybe it was to stop stupid idiots in stupid goggles from accidentally gassing themselves. Whoops. I suppose a sudden onset of asthma would prove that sooner or later.

What the giant washing machine did have, was a row upon row of gear in various states of disrepair. Some simply dirty and scratched, other pieces burned, corroded or hell, even bloodied. Capes didn't play around it seemed.

A couple of piles that screamed "new arrivals" were lying haphazardly folded, like the person responsible had been in a rush. Whatever, I didn't really care what parts made it into my bags – my experience so far had proven that someone was willing to pay for even the meanest piece of a cape's uniform, and ultimately the meaner the piece, the less danger involved in selling it.

Opening the duffel bag wide, I slid the entire first pile into it, roughly mashing it down so I could close the zipper. That done, I pulled out the second bag and repeated it with another lumpy pile on the built-in counter.

Two bags, no alarms. Smooth Will, smooth. As silent as I could, I snuck back to the second floor office, knowing that I'd be able to 'jump' to a pre-determined roof that should be outside of the security cameras range, unless they were truly impressive, which nothing in this place had given me an impression off.

Being careful not to expose myself too much in the office window, I lowered myself, one hand and knee on the ground controlling my movement, and slowly lifted one lens above the windowsill. A couple of seconds and a deep breath later I pulled the metaphorical tether of my powers, and the world shifted. No fade to black, no feeling of movement. The only real indication of using the power, was a slight weariness when used repeatedly or over great distances, and the tiny delay it took for my brain to analyze what it was seeing.

Between one second and the next, wind started ruffling my short blonde hair, the light sheen of sweat on my exposed skin going icy cold in the late-night air. Ever so slowly, I flexed my arm and legs, the cold and hard surface disappearing from under my hand and knees.

I'd made it out.

* * *

Caution, paranoia or maybe just common sense chocked the shout of exhalation before it could form. Instead, a wide grin split my lips beneath the half-mask. There'd be time for congratulating my own genius later, and preferably in another state.

Turning on one heel, I found the tallest building in Happy Harbor and teleported. The wind this far up was far harsher, but still nothing compared to the skyscrapers of Metropolis. Besides I wasn't staying long, I just needed the altitude to get a longer 'jump'. Scanning the night horizon, something only possible due to my goggle, I tried to find a decent spot, something both far away and preferably high up to set up the following jump. Finding a suitable spot, I hefted up both bags before noticing one small but critical detail.

My shock-stick. I'd had a shock-stick going in. I now had two large bags. One in each hand. And unlike in video-games, I had no magic bag of +5 carry, no pocket dimensions, and no magnetic strips on my bag. In short. I had lost my goddamn stick. My stick quite possibly lubed up with fingerprints and fried forehead grease from when I erhh… "tested" its ability to pass a current. Straight to my face.

A pathetic groan escaped my lungs, the bags dropping from suddenly dead fingers.

"I.. gah… Stupid! Bad! I… fuck…FUCK!"

Yeah, my cursing while stressed wasn't exactly up to the comedy gold standard. So sue me.

Of course, I had to bring the bloody stick. For protection I'd argued, it'd be great – much better than a bat.

"Thing is, you tend to _forget_ things you aren't familiar with you dumb-ass!"

Especially in unfamiliar high-stress and high-risk scenarios. Such as unsolicited appropriation of otherwise useless paraphernalia. Presently useless at any rate.

"Stalling Will, you're stalling" I mumbled. Right.

Turning around with an internal grunt of annoyance I jumped back, circumnavigating the outside patrol as well as all the surveillance that I'd already located.

* * *

With the only the slight noise of denim on carpet, I backed out of range of the window and into the hallway. I only briefly noted the carpet changing to grid-patterned rubber floor before another jump changed rubber to hard grey cement - the pleasant climate-controlled temperature disappearing just as fast as the floor change had occurred. It almost felt like déjà vu, standing in front of the huge industrial sized washer after only a couple of minutes again. Only this time, I was less impressed with my performance.

I proceeded towards the washer, light on my feet, though at this point my internal frustration was warring with my previous caution. I took hold of the handle, grateful that I hadn't try to lock up after myself and gave it a steady heave. Just like before, completely bereft of any dramatic whooshing noise of decompression, the door swung open, the hinges barely screeching. On the other side, casually against a panel in the back, my shock-stick rested. I swear, I didn't even remember putting it down. I'd have to watch that in the future, especially with how unwieldy a 5-foot pole was to carry around.

Just as I was about to walk out, I noticed a smaller pile of uniform parts next to what looked like a cape crumpled on the floor. Maybe fallen from the racks and hangers. While I wasn't really back for more than the pole, it did bring to mind that without the duffel-bags in my backpack, I know how some extra room. Eh, waste not want not. Down into the bag it went, along of with what looked like a sealed bag of assorted hard plastic, or maybe carbon or some such. Not sure who they belonged to, but they didn't take up too much space, so why the hell not.

I squeezed it all down into the bag, struggling to close the zipper. I had to push the top piece of fabric down – something black with gold on it – in order to actually get it closed. Well mostly closed. It'd be good enough for my needs though.

I was trying to ignore that annoying feeling of déjà vu when I slowly existed the building again, back through the rubber-floored workshop and up the stairs to the office space, only to sit kneeling in the exact same spot as only minutes ago. Stupid stick.

I located the roof I'd teleported to the first time around fairly quickly, and decide not to waste any time getting out of the workshop again, With a short jump, I found myself kneeling on the familiar rooftop once more, the elation scarcely any less than before.

"I guess that's that then" I mumbled with a tight smile. Time to get back to the duffel bags. I got up from my crouch, idly brushing of my pant knees in an attempt to get the grit and sand from the rooftop off. I started walking towards the edge, not really out of necessity, but habit and internally aimed for the next rooftop that would take me closer to the bags, in this case an older brownstone building, the grout between the bricks colored dark brown by generations of car exhaust. I was mentally tallying up the distance I needed to travel, so as not to go too far, nor too high as I didn't want to sprain my ankle from a lazy 'jump' when a voice called out, hard to hear through the wind on the roof and the distance.

I whirled around in surprise and saw a figure in red with a cloak and hood, pointing some sort of stick or wand in my direction.

"…op! ..ere… et… that!" he wasn't that far away now, slowly walking towards me, but the wind increased just as he shouted at me, and carried most of it away.

I cocked my head to the side, not really sure what to think. Something was familiar about wand thing, and was that an "R" on his chest? R… as in…

"Robin. Crud!" I hissed just as Birdboy twirled the stick around, until with a snap, it turned into a full-length staff. A staff. Kind of like. Oh! I gently raised the staff in one gloved hand and looked from it to what Robin was carrying.

"Didn't know it could do that" I mumbled, slightly embarrassed at not having figured that out myself. That definitely would've saved me a problem or two.

Oh well, slightly surreal as it was seeing him in person, I wasn't going to stick around for a conversation. Out of sight, out of mind… hopefully. Slightly more rushed than I'd intended just seconds before, I turned around and teleported to the roof.

Fortunately, my aim had seen drastic improvements over the past couple of weeks, and I dropped no more than a few inches. I started looking towards the next building that would get me where I needed, when I heard a whoosh of pressurized gas and a light thump behind me.

"I said, where did you get that!"

I turned around, a little surprised at how quick he was. "Hey, it's just a stick, found it lying around. No need to get all worked up abou-" I started defensively.

"It's a bo-staff! And not what I was talking about!" Robin fumed while pointing slightly across my right shoulder.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about" I asked, hands out and slowly backing away from the irate teen.

I didn't give him time for a reply. I wasn't an idiot, and I had no intention of this situation spinning out of control. More out of control I amended internally. I spun on one heel and pulled off another teleport, barely looking at the building in question, only the presence of a flat surface to land on.

I only stayed long enough for me to find another target to teleport to, when the signature hiss preceding Robin's means of travel sounded again. Fast!

We continued the little chase for another half-dozen buildings or so when I stopped and turned. This wasn't getting me anywhere. Maybe he could be reasoned with, or at least distracted enough for me to find a target further way, and harder to follow.

While the Robin that landed on the rooftop, only 4 or 5 yards from me, seemed to be breathing a little heavier, he wasn't any slower than the first time. Handy zip-things or not, that had to take some upper body strength to swing around like that.

"Give it to me, or you will not like the consequences" Robin seethed.

Keeping Robin and an avenue of escape firmly in sight, I raised one hand above my shoulder and pulled out some sort of fabric half out of the top of my bag.

Black. With gold waves, or maybe a W.

"Stop fondling it!" he screeched, sounding even younger than I'd pegged him for.

"Oh" Oh! Well didn't that look bad. I held a teenage girl's spandex top – Wonder Girl's if my guess was correct - pinched between two fingers and away from me, as if the very fabric might harm me. Okay, so it wasn't great, but why the hell was the Bat's sidekick so upset about a top? I mean I wasn't expecting happiness from any supers at me making off with their broken-down gear, but this seemed downright personal. Wasn't Batman and his flock supposed to be more of the silent and broody type? I mean, I expected a little less screeching and teenage tirade. If not for the goggles and the greenish light it cast the world in, I swear I could see Robin's face go red.

"Alright, alright! Calm down, didn't mean to ruffle your feathers!" No, bad brain, don't antagonize the weaponized teen!

"Ruffle my feathers?" Robin hissed before his hand, in what looked like an incredibly practiced motion, his hand went behind his cloak. The next I knew, something dark came blurring towards me. Fortunately, I'd kind of been waiting for this exact moment.

I might not have been anyone's idea of a fan when it came to the spandex crowd, but countless hours researching the various markets for super paraphernalia had given me a pretty good idea of what a lot of the supers carried in terms of arms and armor.

The bat people? Throwing stars. Well bats actually… or birds as the case was here. I might not be some super-reflexed wunderkind, but I didn't have to be.

A clang sounded somewhere behind, followed by an angry grunt, and another hiss of pressurized air or gas being released. Cue boots landing surprisingly lightly and eyes staring at me like only a teenager could.

I didn't doubt he could beat in a fight, in fact, based on my complete lack of combat experience, he'd absolutely dominate me… Which is why I wasn't going to fight him, or even get within 10 yards of him if at all possible. Before he had a chance to throw something else at me, or my stupid mouth have another chance to bait him, I decided that discretion was the better part of valor and 'jumped' down to the roof we'd both just came from.

I almost stumbled as I stepped on something on the ground. Something metallic and round. Moving my foot away, I saw something that almost looked like a double-bladed battle axe –only a couple of inches across and sans the handle. While I'd seen, and even had a Baterang, I'd never snagged a Birdarang. Fitting souvenir really. The distinctive hiss of Robin's little grappling gun alerted me that I wasn't alone anymore, and that it was time to pack up and leave.

This time though, I saw him swinging in, with his mouth moving and one vambrace lifted towards his face.

"You calling back up? Too little too late buddy" I smirked… briefly.

Robin was smirking back. Robin smirking back probably wasn't good for-

With a feeling of every single molecule of my body being pulled backwards sharply, everything faded to black. Less than a second later, I was standing on a different roof, Robin nowhere in sight. Shit! That only happened when something dangerous had very nearly happened to me. I hadn't heard anything like a gunshot, but with me forcibly being yanked away like that, I couldn't really guarantee if I'd missed the sound.

Shooting people just didn't seem like a very Robin-y thing to do. Violently pummel and cut up a little – sure, but not shooting. Pretty sure that was specifically frowned upon.

Before I had time to frown, I was forcibly yanked back again, this time stumbling into a roof-mounted aircon unit, before I saw a flash of red hurtling towards me.

"Shi-"

Another gut-wrenching teleport. I didn't even manage to see anything but a blurry smear in front of me before I found myself on in the middle of the sidewalk. The next. I saw even less. I felt it though. Something briefly touching my gut before I was gone again.

When my eyes finally readjusted, I was staring at the ground on my hands and knees, heaving for breath that came much harder than I was comfortable with.

"Okay…" I panted "definitely not someone shooting"

"Nah, not really our style you know?" an exuberant and youthful voiced replied.

I jerked my head up fast enough, that I was sure I'd be feeling it in the morning. A… another teenager was standing at the edge of the roof? I looked around, getting my bearings. Yes. Roof. The teen in the bright red and yellow spandex seemed amused at my disorientation.

"You move pretty fast for some C-lister, well, D-lister probably" the teen stated with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

D-lister? Ouch. My poor ego. Oh wait, D-lister meant of little consequence and/or fairly unknown. With that rationalization as a band-aid to my bruised ego, I slowly got up from the ground, brushing my gloved hands together to get the dirt and grit off. Well tried to at least. I was still clutching something in my left hand – something soft, black and gold

"When I'm feeling motivated" I said in as neutral a tone as I could. No reason to give anything away. Least of all the spandex top in my hand. If I ignored it, surely, he wouldn't notice.

"You know what surprises me? Aside from Robin's girlfriends top I mean" Oh. That explained some things. "You don't use super speed; believe me I'd know" a knowing smile crossed his lips as he said that. "No, you obviously teleport or something like that" he kept explaining, hands waving with his last comment, as if whatever distinction there might be simply wasn't important. "But if you can do that, why aren't you in another state by now?"

Still trying to keep up with his rapid-fire comments as well as the fact that I'd managed to steal another super's girlfriend's dirty laundry froze me up just long enough for mini-Flash to widen his eyes and let out a laugh.

"You can't, can you? Wow… talk about drawing the short stick huh?" He started looking around, pacing to the end of the building and back. "Can't be line of sight, 'cause there's no way you'd have been able to see the street or the building you're on now... okay, so short range, but not limited to line-of-sight. I think I'll upgrade you to C-rank… provided"

"provided what?" my treasonous mouth replied. Damnit!

The only response I got was a brief smile and a blur.

With another pulling sensation, I was forcibly teleported away from the incoming man-shaped missile. Again. And again. And again.

I knew I had to retake initiative before pint-sized flash managed to wear me out enough for me to… well… I wasn't actually sure what would happen. Would I teleport and not reappear, or would my power just stop working entirely, with me passed out on the ground?

… Regardless, I was in no hurry to find out. When I stumbled out of the next jump, I immediately turned my eyes a fraction and initiated my own jump, before the reactive-emergency-teleport thing took over once again. I didn't stop with a single jump either. As fast as I could I chained jump after jump until I'd covered what felt like half the city, only peripherally noticing changes in noise, wind and light. Hoping that I'd lost the speedster, if only for a minute or two, I leaned crouched down behind a couple of buzzing rooftop units.

I needed a plan. Okay, so cities were bad for me. Too many distractions and too many buildings and billboards blocking my line of sight. On the bright side, that should work in my favor as well in terms of hiding. Most everything was accessible to me, and within a short amount of time. At the distances relevant in a city though? Speedsters seemed to have the edge, being able to clear entire high-rises in seconds instead of minutes, if not hours.

I didn't want to lead him or them back to Metropolis for obvious reasons, though I wasn't super concerned about Bat-boy right now.

I knew I had one way to get out that I was pretty sure they couldn't follow, but it also wasn't something I was super enthused about trying. I in fact "knew" was entirely too strong of a word. I'd done some small-scale testing, some in the heat of the moment and others mostly planned. The tests only almost made me piss myself. Almost.

The safest option right now though, would be for me to stay hidden and slowly teleport closer and closer to the city limits until I'd be able to make my route south across to Metropolis. I crept closer out from behind the roof units until I could look at the street several floors beneath me, and more importantly the buildings across from me.

Not having the luxury of time, I found something that looked like a corner office, with a glass door. Perfect. Well, good enough at least. With a greater effort than normal, I left the rooftop behind and found myself in what had probably been a pretty swanky office… in the 70's. It didn't look like it had been refurbished since. A carpet of indeterminate color, liberally stained with close to 50 years of spilled coffee and printer ink covered the floor from wall to wall, and while smoking inside might be an issue these days, the walls attested to that not always having been true, and even if it hadn't nothing, and I mean nothing was going to hide half a century of cigarette smoke seeping into every single fiber of the office.

With a sneer of disgust, I opened the glass door – the only semi-modern concession that I could find and stepped out into an only marginally more modern hallway. The carpet at least was less stained, but the overwhelming smell of old cigarette smoke persisted even here. God, at this rate, my clothes would smell like an ashtray before I was done.

I took some time to plan the rough direction I needed to get out of the Happy Harbor (by which I mean that I found the direction south-west on my phone) before walking to a window that would let me jump in the right direction.

* * *

Over the past 15 minutes, I'd slowly made my way to the south western part of the city, and with a few more jumps, I should be close enough to see the building where I'd left my two duffel bags. Hopefully both Flash Jr. and Robin were too busy looking for me that they wouldn't notice two black duffel bags on a roof in the relative darkness of the night.

Staring intently out the window of a pleasantly fruity-smelling office decorated in garish colors and with an absurd amount of knick-knacks and children-pictures, _generations_ worth of children-pictures, I tried to plan what buildings I'd need to jump to in order to get to my end goal. I'd finally located an older building with a renovated pent-house floor, chock-full of floor-to-ceiling windows. My pulse finally getting closer to normal, I was just about to initiate another jump, when something pulled me backwards. Only my tightly wound nerves allowed me to almost get free from the grip by twisting fast and hard. Almost. Unfortunately, "almost" is never quite enough.

At the last moment, when the grip seemed about to loosen another fist caught the front of my jacket and hauled me towards my assailant. With my arms wide and waving, fighting a losing battle with gravity, I could do nothing when the second hand grabbed the other side of my jacket and started pulling my down. I didn't understand what was happening, until a pair of boots, appeared between to two fists pulling me and my jacket down.

With an angry grunt the booted feet pushed as the hands released my jacket, and I, much to my dismay, was sent flying through the open door and into the hallway I'd just come from. I bounced painfully off the floor, loosing what little breath I had left, and rolled into the wall behind me hard enough for my elbow to dent the drywall.

I blearily lifted my head, just long enough to see a shape moving towards me from the office I was in. Well, the office I had been in at any rate. I seemed to have been forcibly vacated somehow. Something in my head told me that letting the offending shape get closer was a bad idea, so I jerked my head towards the end of the hall, and with a slight sense of vertigo found myself in the same position, only in the opposite end of the hallway.

I got my hands underneath me, then my knees, before finally getting up fully, one hand supporting me on the wall of the hallway. I looked down towards the office, and sure enough, Robin was walking out of the office, his head turning towards me. He looked a lot more confident than I felt.

I met his eyes, internally praising whoever wanted to listen that my goggles only showed a cold green-tinted exterior from the outside, 'cause my eyes were wide as saucers on the inside, and my skin clammy and wet with sweat. This was not my scene at all. I didn't _fight_. Hell, outside of my experience with Barrage, I hadn't been in an actual fight in… ever! Some scrapes and bruises from middle school altercations was the closest I'd otherwise been.

Another more pressing observation though, how had that little pull and kick even worked on me? Where was my emergency jumped when it was _absolutely_ needed! Too tired? Used to much? Maybe even the nature of the attack? Fuck! I didn't have time for this stupid thing to be acting up!

At least my own teleports seemed to be working, or at the very least hadn't misfired yet. The creaking of the floor was getting progressively closer, though at a steady and measured pace. I raised my head and stared towards Robin, him meeting my stare with casual indifference.

"How do you keep finding me!" I spat, a bit more venom and frustration in my tone of voice than I'd really meant.

Robin slowly walked towards me, the slight twist of one side of his mouth trying to suppress what looked like a smirk. Almost faster than I could react his right hand went behind his cape, only this time, odd grey pellets flew from his open fist.

While I was a little disoriented, and a lot tired, I was still prepared for those little disks of his, and figured that whatever he threw, be they disks or pellets, they'd be bad news for me.

Being at the end of the hallway, all I was able to do was to teleport behind him to the far end of the hallway, close to the office door I'd tumbled out of only a minute ago.

I heard a loud hissing noise from where the pellets had landed and saw most of the hallway get smothered in thick grey smoke, thick grey smoke nearing me with at a frightening speed.

I did the only thing I could in order not to be trapped with my little punchy teenage buddy and dove through the open office door, kicking the door closed a second later. I backed away the door when I stepped on something hard and unyielding.

With an almost imperceptible whirring noise a crack sounded from the Birdarang under my foot.

"Fu-"

With a pain like a thousand burning needles in my leg, and an eye-searing flash of electrical light, I half jerked, half fell across the office desk, liberally smashing the pictures there in a weak attempt to get away from the pain. With the pain still burning through me, my power finally decided to kick in. Only it kicked in by sending me crashing into a desk in some other office. Fortunately, this one had none of the knick-knack, so all I managed to smash my tender back into was a keyboard.

"… ow" Sneaky little git.

Damnit, this is why I only snag mostly useless junk - so I _wouldn't_ get used as a walking punching bag. At least Robin wasn't a meta or some such, not as far as anyone knew at least. He kicked plenty hard, but not "super" hard. Unfortunately, his little shock-gizmo had upped the ante on the pain scale.

My run-in with Barrage not-withstanding, I'd never experienced anything more painful than a brief fistfight as a teenager. This, this was pain on an entirely different level, and not one I was particularly pleased to have experienced.

Slowly rolling off the desk, partially to evaluate the pain, and partially as to not make any more noise than necessary, I fished something sharp and disk-shaped out of my pocket.

The Bat-people were supposed to be smart. Strategy and tech won them the day more often than brawn and laser-beams. Robin had already proved that he planned ahead when fighting. While he couldn't know how my powers worked, because frankly, _I_ didn't know how they worked, he kept trying different things – things I imagined had worked on other people with similar power sets. Sneak-attacks, smoke to ruin line of sight and confuse, electricity to, what, paralyze? Stun? Make powers go haywire? I didn't really know, but the ninja throw, planting the shock-disk-birdarang-thing and then forcing me right into with his little smoke pellets proved a scary degree of tactical acumen. No coincidence there, I wasn't dumb enough to think that.

Fingering the disk, I'd taken back on the roof, I sighed as I dropped it to the carpet. I couldn't prove that he was tracking me, or that the disk was how he did it, but my ribs kindly informed me that better safe than sorry was the right way to go.

It might not have been the smartest idea to write off Robin as the lesser threat of the two. Which reminded me, where the hell was-

A red-yellow blur. Black. Another blur. A car horn honking and sharp, cold wind in my face. A third blur appeared in front of me and once again I was forcibly pulled away by my powers. Dozens of different images, sounds and smells assaulted my senses over the next few minutes, and a dozens more impressions of being pulled around in complete darkness – like a puppet on a string.

* * *

I staggered. Or tried to. One of my feet wouldn't move, like it was caught in a vice. I almost panicked as the goggles didn't seem to be working. I spread my arms wide, hoping to find the walls nearby to support myself on.

Something… wet started seeping into my right boot. Wet and cold. I whacked the goggles frantically, trying to make them work again, when I realized that they were working, but the ambient light level in the room I was in, was too low for them to show me much.

I rummaged through my pant pockets with shaking fingers, trying to find my phone. I needed light. Even if only a little. My adrenaline-shaking fingers finally settled on the hard corner of my smartphone, and I gently eased it out, afraid that If I dropped it, I'd never find it again.

With a soundless click of the phone's power button, the room lit up.

I was staring into white tile. Or green tile as viewed through the goggles, but there was no mistaking it. White bathroom tile. Which would make the water in my boot… I looked down hesitantly, afraid of what I'd find.

"Oh you have got to be shitting me!" I seethed while trying to pull my submerged boot out of the toilet bowl. It looked like my reactive teleport had gotten my boot stuck deeply in the toilet bowl, and not just a little stuck either.

Jerking my foot as much as I could only managed to splash rank old water around. Not exactly a winning prospect then. One option remaining then. I thanked my lucky stars that I was wearing boots, for the simple reason that it means my shoestrings were above the edge of rancid water.

"Bye bye boot" I spoke softly while grimacing at my gloved fingertips so near the mess. While a short pull, my boot was untied, and the tension loosened just enough for me to slide my sock out of the boot.

I wasn't fond of leaving evidence behind, even if just some foot-sweat and the boot itself, but I'd be beyond surprised if anyone found the boot anytime soon, much less connect it to me. Whatever DNA might be on it was bound to be contaminated by the toilet water, not that anyone should have anything to compare it to, to begin with.

Yeah, I should be just fine, but I could admit to myself that losing my damn boot on my first real outing wasn't exactly a praiseworthy achievement… I carefully lowered my drenched foot, trying to ignore the clammy wetness as well as the unidentifiable shapes underneath my sock. Unidentifiable not because I wouldn't be able to see them now that I had my phone up, but because I truly didn't want to know.

Finally, being able to see and turn around, only verified what I already knew. I was in a bathroom. Not a stall or anything, but an actual bathroom with an actual sink, mirror and door. Well, parts of a mirror at least - most of it was lying broken in the dirty sink, idly twinkling from the light of my phone. At least the door had a handle, though the door didn't sit too well in the frame – either it or the frame seemed a little warped. Cold sweat sprang from my pores at the idea of being trapped in a dark, dank bathroom in who knows where.

"Pleasant thoughts Will… bunnies, soft non-bitey bunnies" Yeah… bunnies.

I walked slowly towards the door, making sure to keep most of my weight on my left foot after seeing the broken shards of mirror on the floor - A drenched boot with some tainted remains of sweat was one thing, a trail of blood wherever I stepped? Decidedly less optimal.

As bathroom doors generally aren't locked from the outside, seeing as it defeats the purpose of keeping people out when your junk is dangling above the toilet, I wasn't particularly worried about that. With that being said, I did close my eyes and said a quick prayer to whoever would be willing to listen before pulling the handle.

… to no avail. The warped door, frame or some unholy combination of the two only made a creaking sound, while moving not an inch. I pulled the handle a couple more times, putting increasing amounts of weight behind it. While the wood of the door groaned a little and the creaking of tortured hinges got louder, the door itself didn't budge.

"Fine, if pulling won't work!" I hissed stepping back a few feet, while using my left foot to clear the ground of the mirror shards between me and the door. I bent down slightly, angling my shoulder towards the door and then surged forwards with all the momentum I could build.

A heavy thud of clothed flesh against hard wood sounded right before my wet-socked foot lost all traction, leading me to promptly slide down the slick, if dented, surface of the door.

I stayed there for a minute, just breathing and trying not to think of the pain pulsing in my shoulder and upper arm. Should've known better than to think that would work, but better to try and fail than… well, maybe not this time.

I rolled over with wince, so I wouldn't have my weight on my right shoulder anymore. That´s when I realized something. Most doors are in fact not completely flush with the ground – especially not doors in a warped frame. I could see the gap, but I could see any light coming from it. Turning my phone over in my hand to point towards the door, I was able to see maybe an inch beyond the door. Crud. Not enough to work with. I looked down at my phone again with a small smile. I might not be small enough to see through that bottom crack, but the camera on my phone was small enough that with the flashlight on, I should be able to see what was on the other side with my screen.

Turning on bright lights while your low-light goggles were struggling to keep up with the low ambient light of my display turned out to be a painfully bad idea. The spots didn't go away for several minutes, but when they did, I finally saw the issue.

I was in a building. That part I knew. The building was utterly trashed. That part… I had feared. Bigger problem? Most of what I could see was broken masonry and fallen concrete beams with rebar sticking out. One of them lying close enough to the door that I had a suspect for what might have damaged the door-frame.

I turned the camera around a few degrees in each direction, seeing if I could pick out something a little more helpful than broken masonry. I exhaled sharply in frustration at being able to see on the other side, but not being able to do anything about it. That wasn't how my powers worked.

I rolled over on my back, made uncomfortable by the backpack, and abandoned my phone by the door.

"Trapped in the shitter, real professional there Will…"

I was starting to wonder if somehow faking a dangerous situation would make my reactive teleport activate and get me out, but it wasn't really an easy theory to test given my current circumstances, as making a wrong move would just leave me trapped _and_ injured.

If only I could just see a little further, or if the crack under the door was a little higher up so I could see more than an inch. Heh, if I could just jump through what my phone saw, I'd be out in a heartbeat, but that wasn't how it worked. I mean… I was pretty sure that's not how it worked. Had I ever really tried before though?

I turned around again staring at my still filming phone, and what it showed on the other side in real time. Maybe the medium didn't really matter. I mean, I could teleport through glass and even the lenses on my goggles, whatever they were made off. Maybe this wasn't really too different after all… Not that I had the slightest idea of how my goggles, or a smart phone camera actually operated. Common sense dictated that cameras would operate on different principles than glass, as you weren't actually looking through the phone, but at what the camera on the other side of the phone sent to a screen. Not the same thing, but at least it was in real-time, I guess. I wasn't using a recording of somewhere else and _sometime_ else.

"Stop dragging your feet Will, speculating is for future Will"

Taking hold of my phone, I stared at a piece of relatively uncluttered patch of floor a few yards in. With a deep breath and an unspoken prayer, I activated my powers, the pulling sensation came, but dragged out a little, as if unsure of what I was trying.

Darkness.

"Oof!" my breath expelled as I found myself dropping to a cold cement floor from a foot up, a piece of rubble digging into my side.

I barely felt the pain. I could teleport through cameras. Holy shit. That could open so many opportunities… that… was still something for future Will. MacGyver eat your heart out.

I rolled over with a grunt, finally being able to see around. It looked like an old warehouse or factory, only stripped bare. Even the wires seemed to be missing, as the light switches were reduced to dark, naked pits in the wall. Graffiti haphazardly filled most of the walls, and a few burned out barrels and broken bottles attested to a homeless presence not too long ago. Turning around I only saw more rubble and rebar, and a precariously leaning catwalk above me. Better not stay too long.

I brushed some of the white dust and sand of my coat and backpack, and gingerly starting walking out of this tetanus-inducing trap and towards what looked like a short ramp – No way was I braving the ladder to the decrepit catwalks above.

* * *

I picked my way through fallen shelving units, rusted metal and sharp pieces of concrete until something reflective in the next room finally caught the light of my phone. Waddling as fast as I could on my now bootless filthy right foot, I reached a hallway with high-set industrial windows, completely blacked out. Just my goddamn luck. Even if I could see out from where I was standing, I'd be teleporting out to a not-so-short drop and a sudden stop - I wasn't really feeling that at the moment.

Another few rooms and hallways had the same problem, and I started considering how the hell all those punks with the graffiti and the homeless had managed to get in, when I saw the glaringly obvious answer. At some point in the past, someone or something had cratered through the wall in what looked like a reception space of sorts and left a trench several feet deep and straight through the reception desk, if the splintered wood was any indication.

I'd seen something like this too many times before. Super's deciding to duke it out in populated areas. If this had happened during day hours, I could only imagine what happened to the poor receptionist behind the desk.

I decided not to look for any dark splotches on the floor or in the trench, as I really didn't want that question answered. Teeth gritted, I stiffly walked out into the pitch black of the Rhode Island night.

I dug my phone out of my pocket again and turned on the GPS function. I had no idea where I was. Well, aside from the state of Rhode Island. It took a little time for me to get a signal, further proof that I wasn't exactly in Downtown Happy Harbor.

"Come on, come on…" I mumbled to myself, impatient at the glacial speed of the GPS connection coming through.

"There!" Apparently, I was a few miles outside of the city, which meant a few miles from my duffel bags. I had to walk to the other side of the wide factory building to see what passed for Happy Harbors skyline.

I increased the zoom to max on the goggles, which would let me aim better, and you know, not midjudge by a few yards and potentially break my precious bones. It was a great tool for stuff like this, but the manual reset afterwards, and the following disorientation took a few precious seconds. Great for planned stuff like this – useless for when the Tights Patrol had been racing after me earlier.

The pulling sensation was much harder this time, though it didn't leave me as winded as it once had, despite my current condition. I'd mapped out where I needed to go before jumping, and I had a plan of how to get away when I inevitably came across Birdboy and Jr. Flash. I didn't really like the plan, but it _was_ a plan. And judging from my previous encounter with them, I _really_ needed a plan if I didn't want to end up in some lock-up or worse.

With one last deep breath and a shake of my right foot to get some of the small rocks off the sock, I started my way towards my duffel bags, and what was probably an ambush.

* * *

I dropped onto the building, right next to my waiting duffel bags from a few feet up. More for dramatic effect, than misjudging the distance. If I was going to spring an ambush, I might as well look a little cool doing i-

Before I could complete my thought, a red and yellow blur interrupted me, his feet skidding across the rooftop in a shower of dust and rooftop detritus. When he looked up at me, there was a big old smirk on his face.

"Thought you lost us, did you?" he said with mirth

"Us?" I replied just as Robin rappelled down from absolutely nothing in the sky, from blank fucking space! My eyes involuntarily widened at the sight.

I looked from one super to the other "Okay that owes a goddamn explanation!" I demanded loudly, but not quite in as authoritarian a tone as I'd have liked, as the lighter notes of frustration clearly shined through.

Robin merely thumbed up at the sky, his expression insufferably smug.

I'm not sure how to explain it, but like a tablecloth being pulled off a surface, a plane, or airship appeared out of thin air, a hatch already open to show several figures looking down at me.

My eyes widened even more, thankfully unseen behind my goggles "what the utter fu-"

"So, what happened to your shoe?" Huh? I looked down at Flashboy who was pointing towards my right foot.

"My shoe?" I looked down at my dirty and still drying sock. Before tensing at a sudden pang of extreme irritation.

No. Just, no. _hell_ no even.

"If you want the shirt that bad, you can goddamn have it! I'm out!" I tore the offending object from the top of my backpack and threw it right at Robin's face. I'm not sure if surprise or teenage embarrassment saved me, but neither the speedster nor the sidekick moved a muscle as Wonder Girl's top landed firmly on Robin's face.

I managed to catch an indignant squawk from above me and an angry girl's voice "is that my-" before reaching down for my duffel backs while looking straight up at the cloudless expanse of empty air. Distractions aside, it was time to execute my escape plan, and hope I didn't break anything important doing it. I teleported straight up, hovering for a brief moment far above the city, far above any distractions structures to block my view. It was time to go home.

Time to be done with this disaster.

17


End file.
